


Playing by Numbers

by Blackforestfire



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Asphyxiation, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Spanking, Strider's not being able to deal with emotions, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackforestfire/pseuds/Blackforestfire
Summary: Your name is Hal and something is wrong with Dirk. He's been acting like your mere presence burns him, and as of late he's thrown himself into a new project with a mania that startles even you.Your mutual friends are beginning to worry. 
 
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you have to get out of here.





	1. Chapter 1

“There must be a way!”

You blink in surprise as Dirk throws a warped metal contraption across the cluttered work room. It clangs against the wall and rolls under his work bench, probably settling in for the long haul of dust-gathering and rusting.

“Dirk, take a break.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours and you feel something twist unpleasantly in your gut. He’s exhausted, and you know his obsession with this latest project is keeping him up longer than usual. By your calculations, he should have crashed hours ago. Even with insomnia, Dirk always wore down after 72 or so hours.

“Hal, if you’re not going to be useful then go somewhere else,” he grits out, teeth clenched as he drags his hand through his limp, unwashed hair.

“You’re running yourself into the ground. By my calculations, most humans can’t go over 72 hours without sleep before they start experiencing hallucinations—”

“I’m fine!”

You pause at his raised voice, the thin silicone skin around your lips pulling down in distaste. It had taken you awhile to master such a subtle facial expression, but you’ve gotten a lot of opportunities to practice lately.

“I’m fine,” Dirk repeats, looking around for something. “I need…I need my sketch pad. There has got to be a way somehow. The sendificator can send anything to any point in time, but it’s too small.”

“So you’re going to make it bigger?” You keep your voice bland as you watch him get up and pace, his eyes darting around as he thinks aloud.

“Bigger, yes, maybe alter some of the coding. I need to catch another fish, see if it’ll send live animals.”

“You need to stop sending your friends dead animals. It’s not cute when you’re not a cat.”

“—then move onto something bigger,” Dirk mumbles, glancing out the window towards the vast expanse of ocean. It was hard to gauge the time by sight, but your internal clock tells you it was 7:14 in the morning.

Dirk’s agitated muttering tapers off as he looks around his room in confusion, body swaying ever-so-slightly.

You decide to make a judgement call.

That judgement call happens to be in the form of a well-placed smack on the back of his head.

You watch your creator crumble to the floor and you feel your lips pulling down in distaste again. He should have blocked, or at least ducked.

You leave Dirk lying on the floor and go to occupy your time elsewhere. He’ll wake in twelve or so hours and you’ll never hear the end of it.

With this rare moment to yourself you decide to look over the work Dirk has been doing. His scribbles would normally be incomprehensible to anyone but him, but you were him too. You knew what the scratchy lines meant, and the frantic numbers and calculations forced into every available white space told you what you already knew.

It was impossible.

You set down the papers and walk over to the sendificator, picking it up and turning it over in your hands. You had been able to send Brobot over to Jake piece at a time, and the head had barely fit in the end. You briefly contemplate sending some sort of code on a USB drive that would allow Dirk to be inside Brobot, like some sort of virtual reality gig, but you discard the notion quickly. Jake English hates Brobot, and Dirk wouldn’t be satisfied unless he was really there. Plus there was the whole fiasco awhile back…

Your mouth tightens at the edges and you set it down a little rougher than necessary. You don’t understand Dirk’s sudden frenzy. He’s lived alone for years, and suddenly something inside him snapped and he started looking for any way he could to get to his friends. He even made you a body in a fit of lonely desperation. 

You cast a sour look at your unconscious creator. Something about passing the age of sixteen did something weird to him.

\---

When Dirk finally does wake up its well into the next day. The sun was beginning to set and you are on the roof, legs dangling over the side as you watch it. You try to watch it as often as you could, witness the spread of color sink below the horizon as the warmth of the sun retreats, leaving you cold. You capture these moments in your mind, storing them in your impossibly huge memory bank. You fill every space you can in your mind with color and sound, remembering how horrible it had been when you first woke up. Now sensory overload is what you live for, what makes your circuits thrum with excitement. You almost don’t hear Dirk approaching, but of course you do. You hearing is ten times better than your fleshbag roommate, and you can hear the swing of his sword through the air before you decide to move.

It bites into the ground where you’d been sitting, and you give Dirk a dry glance. “That was bad even for you.”

Dirk gives you an ugly look, his hair disarrayed from sleeping. “I have the worst headache, you ass.”

“There is a 99.46% chance it might have something to do with you squinting over little bits of paper for two and half days.”

Dirk’s lips thin and he shifts his stance, pulling his sword up and readying it.

You don’t humor him this time. There’s something about the way he’s holding himself that you don’t like. He slept enough, theoretically, but there’s something off about him. He isn’t looking at you directly.

“Dirk, go back inside.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He lunges at you and you step aside, smacking his arm away with a disdainful snort.

“You sound like a child.”

Dirk wheels around and goes after you with a series of short jabs. You avoid them easily, backing up and watching him as he moves after you with a vengeance. Dirk finally stops when he realizes you’re just ignoring him, sweat beading on his forehead as he glares at you.

You watch him, expressionless as he sneers and turns back around to go inside. You’re overcome with the desire to knock him out again, but remain still as he vanishes back down the covered stairwell.

You wait until the urge passes, and then some more for good measure, before you finally head back down.

Dirk is back to work when you enter the apartment, and you watch him scribble and swear for a moment before you go into the kitchen. He’s been neglecting food again, and probably needs to go fishing soon.

You spend your time lurking outside Dirk’s room, knowing it’s driving him insane. You don’t have much else to do on this hunk of metal, and you find it claustrophobic.

Dirk’s shoulders continue to grow tighter the longer you linger, and you can tell he’s getting near the end of his rope. This usually would be pretty fun for you, since he’d finally be forced to talk to you and you’d have someone other than yourself to interact with. The only thing that’s bugging you was how quickly its happening.

Dirk’s patience is legendary, and even you hold a grudging respect towards the time and dedication he puts towards everything, even getting pissed off. A feat that normally would have been simmering delightfully for a minimum of four hours had un-expectantly reached boiling point in thirty minutes.

Something is wrong.

Your mind quickly runs through all the possibilities, accounting for short temper due to lack of food or being smacked on the head previously. Frustration towards his project is the easiest guess, but he’d been frustrated before.

“Will you stop _staring_ ,” Dirk snaps, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“You’re overworking yourself,” you say idly. “This endeavor is futile.”

Dirk’s glare could melt steel beams and you refrain from commenting as you keep your expression as passive as possible.

“Get out of my room.”

“Or what? You haven’t been eating so a stiff wind could probably knock you over. Whereas I am a fully functional death machine capable of out maneuvering you before you can even begin to pull the necessary strings to pilot your flesh vessel.” You cross your arms, a very human gesture, and regard him coldly.

“I said, get out.”

“No, you said ‘ _get out of my room’_ , which is slightly different—” You’re cut short as a notebook is flung at your head. You catch it and scowl, the plastic cover complaining as you tighten your hold on it.

Dirk has gone back to ignoring you and this time you let him.

You step out of his room and pull up a familiar phone number in your mind. You head to the roof, not wanting another confrontation with Dirk at the moment.

It had been tricky to set up a wireless connection with Roxy without tipping off the Batterwitch, but your superior intellect combined with countless weeks tinkering away in the night had finally granted you a special network.

You access it now, sending out a call to Roxy Lalonde.

_“Is this my fav robo-friend?”_ A voice suddenly exclaims, and you swear you would be smiling now if you weren’t so peeved.

“The one and only.” You sit down on the edge of the roof and let your feet dangle. The ocean washes up against the rusty support beams, creating soft swooshing noise that has become a comfort to you.

_“I’m gettin’ a secret call from our secret bizz-nasty setup, means something’s up, huh? Spill, bb.”_

“There’s no fooling you,” you say with what you hope passes for amusement. You’ve spent too much time practicing cynical and snarky that the more positive tones of voice still allude you. “Have you spoken to Dirk lately?”

_“Mm, not super lately. But Janey messaged me last night and asked somethin’ similar. Apparently mister strider is being allusive or some shit. Is he going through another one of those moods?”_

“Could be.” You contemplate it for a second, comparing behavioral patterns and voice clippings from Dirk’s old mood swings to whatever it was now. “No, I don’t think so. He’s obsessive, borderline neurotic, and not in the usual way. Shit is uncool, Roxy.”

_“Well god damn we can’t be havin’ that! Want me to kick some sense into him? I got mad skills when it comes to mah boys.”_

You know you’re included in that little group and it makes you oddly pleased. “No, I don’t think an ass-kicking will work. I’ve already tried. This seems different, Roxy. Unhealthy.”

_“Is it a Jake thing?”_

Your lips twist down into a scowl. “It better not be.”

_“Aw bb calm your synthetic tits. Jakey isn’t that bad and you know it! He’s gotten better over the years, not so oblivious and shit. Still a dork though, ain’t no helping that.”_

You snort, a new thing you’ve been practicing, and then smirk when you hear Roxy giggle. It’s a recording you found online overlaid with Dirk’s voice, bringing it close to how you sound. You almost went with a horse-snort, but you feel like that joke has been beaten to death at this point. “Anyway, any ideas? I’ve tried the usual.”

_“Ooo well knocking peeps out isn’t always the best thing. Try helpin’ him with his new bad scientist project. Oh, and Hal honey?”_

“Yeah?”

_“If you send me one more dead fish I’m gonna smack the both of you upside the head.”_

“Got it.”

_“Okay I gotta go, cats are getting hungry! Muttie had a new litter and I’ve got my arms full of mini-mutties that are totes adorbs.”_

“Alright. Bye, Roxy.” You sever the connection and think over what she said. You left out the bit about what it was Dirk was working on exactly because you really didn’t want Roxy knowing about it. She might get her hopes up or worse, get upset about it. Better to leave Strider business within the Strider family.

You get up and head back downstairs, deciding to try Roxy’s plan. Helping wasn’t something that came naturally to you, but you could probably bully Dirk down the right path. In a helpful way.

Dirk is exactly where you left him, still scribbling away. He’s got bits and pieces of disassembled machinery around him, some parts arranged in a haphazardness manner like he started to make something only to abandon it halfway through. 

“Dirk.”

He stiffens, no doubt ready for another verbal strife with you.

Instead you shuffle around the shit he has all around his floor and settle into an empty chair next to him. “What’s the plan?”

He gives you an unamused look and then goes back to scribbling.

You take this rare opportunity of silent closeness to really study him. He’s changed over the past few years, growing at an almost aggressive rate. His shoulders have broadened, he’s filled out, and now he’s slowly creeping up past your own height. He’s almost eighteen, by your calculations, but he looks more worn out than any eighteen year old should.

The barely-there freckles over his nose and cheeks have darkened from sun exposure, and his hair is getting longer.

Drawing your eyes away from him you peer at his papers, running over his work in your head.

You quickly come to the conclusion it’s all bullshit.

Dirk, meanwhile, has been getting progressively twitchier now that you’re here. You’re not sure if it’s prior muscle memory that has him acting like this, expecting some sort of attack maybe, or if he’s just sleep deprived. He keeps glancing at you, shifting his body like he can’t decide whether to lean closer or get father away.

It’s annoying.

You frown and tap the paper with your index finger. “It won’t work.”

Dirk slaps your hand away.

You tried.

Unfortunately the thought of disappointing Roxy with your bare bones attempt drives you to try again.

“Dude, what is it that you’re trying to achieve here?”

“I _told_ you,” Dirk grumbles, not meeting your eye. “I want to be able to transport things to and from places. Living things.”

“Like yourself.”

Dirk looks like you just slapped him. He slowly raises his head and stares at you, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

The air is thick and for once you think you understand how silence could be deafening.

“Yes,” Dirk says finally, his voice low. “Like myself.”

“To see Jake,” you press.

Dirk doesn’t reply.

“And Roxy and Jane,” you add on, hoping for a little more information.

Dirk shrugs, turning back to his work. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what,” you deadpan, already done with his funky mood. “The desire to be around anybody other than you? Oh yeah, sure, totally don’t understand that.”

You move closer again, trying to see what additions he is adding.

Dirk flinches back, and you withdraw automatically, surprised. Since when has your presence been so repulsive to him to warrant that kind of reaction?

Sure enough, Dirk is sinking back into pissed-off mode. This is fine, you can deal with this.

“Will you just leave? I have shit to do and you’re being useless.”

There’s color in his cheeks, his voice is curt and snappish. He’s gripping his pencil so tightly you think it might snap. What the hell was going on with him?

You leave, because you honestly don’t know what else to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Dirk Strider and you have to get out of here.

Your computer is blinking beside you, alerting you to the mass of unread messages that have accumulated over the past few weeks. You spare a glance to see its Jake again, and you will yourself to feel some sort of emotion about it. You wait for the rush of excitement that used to come when you saw his chat button come online. It doesn’t happen, and you’re not surprised. It hasn’t happened for a while now.

Your pencil glides to a halt in front of you and you stare blankly down at the design you’re trying to create.

You have to get out of here before you completely lose it.

You hear some noise from the other room and you listen intently for any sign of Hal returning. Thankfully, the noise seems contained in the kitchen for the time being.

Your heart is still a bit off kilter from his recent visit.

Your computer flashes again, but this time it’s Roxy. You scan her message briefly and send a curt reply to affirm you are in fact still alive, and then go back on idle.

You want to go to her compound first.

It’s in the same time period, so there wouldn’t be any weird timeline shenanigans at risk. She’s far from you, but you have her coordinates. It would be easy.

If you could get this damn thing to work.

“Dirk.”

You almost drop your pencil. You didn’t hear him approach, but you know instinctively he’s standing in your doorway. You can feel the heat of his eyes on you and it’s making your skin prickle in ways that you force to the back of your mind.

“You need to eat.”

A flash of fear goes through you. Why was Hal acting like this? Why the sudden lack of sarcastic, thinly veiled hostility? Your heart beat increases as you set you pencil down in a show of calmness.

He knows.

He has to.

“Dirk,” Hal says again, impatient. “Stop being an ass.”

_I need to get out of here_ , you think.

“I’ll eat in a minute,” is what you manage to say.

“No, you’ll eat now. You’re running low on fresh food, so you should go fishing at dusk today too,” Hal continues, and you draw relief from his snarky, holier-than-thou attitude. This, you are used to. You can handle this.

“Why the sudden concern,” you snip back. “Afraid I’ll die and nobody will change your batteries?”

“My concern is that you will stink up the place with your rotting meat puppet. Now go eat and stop being a child.”

You find yourself moving on automatic, and berate yourself the second you realize you’re going to have to pass by Hal to get to the kitchen. You hate being close to him, it drives you insane and makes your skin too hot.

You stare him down for a second, and watch as he regards you with his normal level of bored impatience.

Hal can’t know.

He’d probably mock you if he did.

Drawing in a breath, you move past him, barely twitching when your elbow brushes his arm. The spot burns though as you head into the kitchen, and you rub it quickly before he can notice. You need to stay away from physical contact, it only makes this worse.

You know Hal is watching, so you reach into the fridge and pull out some dried fish and seaweed.

You chew it and try and think of ways to get out.

Taking a boat would be too risky, the drones would pick you off in a heartbeat.

Flying would have the same results.

You’ve thought about it a hundred times, and it all comes down to rewiring your sendificator. That’s your only chance.

Hal is still watching you, and it’s making your face warm.

You hate him.

You hate what he’s doing to you.

It has to be his fault, because everything was fine until you built him that damn body.

And now…

Now you have a person here with you, invading your space.

He’s a physical person, not just colored text on a screen like the rest of your friends.

It only took a week before you realized it was having an effect on you.

“Are you going fishing later?” Hal asks, his voice shattering your thoughts.

You swallow and shrug, finishing off your meal. “Probably.”

That evening you go fishing under the pretense to shut Hal up about your meager food supplies. In reality you had seen some storm clouds in the distance and were praying they’d drench you so Hal couldn’t join you.

Unfortunately they’d danced along the horizon as the sun set, creating a beautiful scenery that you loathed with every ounce of your being.

Hal loves sunsets.

Which meant he was right beside you when dusk bled into evening.

You caught two fish and even went down and bagged yourself a starfish from one of the rusted structural pillars. You don’t really like starfish, they have a weird texture, but you needed to get away from Hal or you’d jump into the ocean.

He touched you five times.

The first time was an accident, your fault.

But you had reacted.

You’d reacted and you knew he noticed because the next touch was his fault. You knew that it was impossible for Hal to do anything unintentionally, as he so liked to remind you periodically.

The third touch followed quickly, and the fourth and fifth smeared together in a heart-pounding blur of horrible excuses.

Your body _ached_.

You’d grabbed your catch and retreated back into your home, hastily throwing everything into the freezer before locking yourself in your room.

Now you’re lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling with the sheets tangled around your ankles. Your body is burning and you can feel every spot Hal touched like he is still there.

Your arm, the accident. Your hip, thigh, arm again, and shoulder—all intentional.

He knew.

“Chill out, man,” you whisper to yourself. “Fuck.”

Your body refuses to listen. Blood moves to your cheeks and lower stomach, making you feel hot and antsy. You turn over restlessly, wondering if you should try and talk to Roxy about this. She might be able to help.

But you can’t bring yourself to reach for the computer. Your fingers move on their own accord and brush over your thigh where Hal’s smooth, warm fingers had bumped against. You close your eyes as your hand moves to your hip.

“Fuck…”

Creating another person had an unintended side effect.

Your hand settles on the growing tent in your boxers and you groan, hating yourself. But most of all, hating Hal.

You have to get out of here, nothing about this is normal or healthy.

People didn’t feel like this towards something like Hal. At least, the three other people in the world you knew sure as hell don’t.

But being so close to somebody after almost a decade and half of lonely isolation had flipped some switch inside of you. You crave his touch, need to feel hands other than your own. You knew what he felt like, you’d built him after all, and now more than ever do you find yourself thinking about Hal and his body.

You are fucked.

You need to be around real people.

But right now you are alone, stuck on a hunk of metal in the middle of an endless ocean. And the only other sentient thing for miles is an AI you had made from the pattern of your own brainwaves.

An AI with a body.

You squirm, trying to think of anything else. But your body is fed up with your bullshit, and the soft burn under your skin has grown into a wildfire.

With a soft curse you shove your boxers down and grip your achingly hard cock, shuddering at the contact. You think about Hal’s hands, how the silicone covered metal would feel on your heated flesh, and you have to bite your lower lip to cut off a whine.

Hal wouldn’t be gentle with you, he’d be fed up with your shit.

You gasp as your mind flings images at you, images of Hal pinning you down and whispering tauntingly in your ear, images of his fingers wrapped around your cock, of him holding you down and taking you.

Your body jerks and you let go of yourself, taking a breath before sliding your hand up your chest instead. Your fingers find a nipple and you pinch and roll it between your fingers, letting the spark of pain fuel your need.

“God, yes,” you breathe into your pillow as your other hand scratches red lines up the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You think of him on top of you, telling you how beneath him you are. He’d make all sorts of comments, dirty and demeaning.

You wrap your fingers around your dick again and slowly stroke it, panting as you think of Hal calling you names.

“Fuck I…mnh, touch me damn you…” you growl into your bed, arching your back up in a futile attempt for more.

You hate him, you hate him so god damn much but fuck you need him so badly you think you’re dying. You need his touch, need his burning red eyes boring into you, need to hear his synthetic voice mocking you as he wrecks you.

You moan, body practically shaking as you shove two fingers in your mouth to muffle yourself. You swirl your tongue around them, wetting them as much as you can while your other hand teases the tip of your cock.

You slide them out and reach between your legs, spreading yourself eagerly. A small voice in your head tells you how fucked up you are, but you’re too far in now.

The thought of Hal being the one to force your legs open make you keen as you push your first finger inside you, working it in until the dull burn evens out into a throbbing pleasure. You stroke yourself as you move your finger, whining and gasping as you hurriedly add the second one before your spit dries.

It’s too fast, and fuck it hurts a bit, but the pain only adds to your lust because you know Hal would do this, he’d be too impatient with your fragile body. 

You jerk and squirm as you fuck yourself with your fingers, frantically pumping your cock towards the finish. Your body feels coiled and tight, too tense as you open your legs further and beg for him to fuck you.

You finish with Hal’s name buried safely in your pillow, shaking as you come into your fist with a strangled moan. You collapse back down into your bed limply, your body buzzing as your vision dances in and out. You carefully pull your fingers out of yourself, wincing, before hastily cleaning yourself up.

You feel horribly empty and dull, unsatisfied despite the intensity of your orgasm. You are exhausted, but the burning need for contact has only subsided back into an achy desire.

 You crawl under your sheet, feeling filthy. Your chest feels hollow and your stomach is in knots as you try and get comfortable. The tightness in your shoulders refuses to relax, and you resign yourself to another sleepless night.

Outside of your room, unbeknownst to you, an android was experiencing a new human emotion; shock.

Your name is Hal and you don’t know what to do, but suddenly a lot of things are starting to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments make my world go round ^u^


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning you decide to give Dirk his space.

You need to think, and being near him was jamming your thought processes. It was like your thought-train had hit a ten-ton stubborn fucking elephant that just had to sit in the middle of the god damn tracks and now shit was wrecked. Children screaming, fire, wheels spinning helplessly in the air as the elephant continued on with its life of denial and self-loathing.

You consider yourself both the train and the elephant in this scenario.

_“I don’t get it,”_ Roxy says slowly. _“Dirk’s caused an accident? With some extinct animal? Aw shit did he send another dead animal to Janey? You know how she reacted the first time.”_

“No,” you say, frustration barely held in check as you try and tap dance around the actual issue while still attempting to get advice. “But the situation is just as fucked.”

_“…did he and Jake start talking again?”_

You wonder if androids can feel contempt. You certainly are coming very close to it at the mention of _that boy_ and Dirk’s miserable failure in courting him.

“No, but Roxy I need some advice.” You have no idea how to handle this.

_“Well, why not stick with what I told ya before? Help him out with his project! Bond or some shit. You guys are living together after all, you might as well get along.”_

“He doesn’t want to live here with me,” you say coldly.

_“Well sucks, because you’re already there. Maybe you gotta be the adult here, Hal. Extend the olive branch as seductively as your robo-feelings can muster.”_

You roll your eyes. “Right. Seductive olive branch. Thanks, Rox.”

_“Anytime, bb.”_

You end the conversation and sigh. The sky is calm today and rush of sea air would have been soothing in any other scenario, but all you can think about is what you heard last night.

You couldn’t believe it, and had stood there in shock until Dirk’s muffled pleas had fallen silent. Sure, you knew what he got up to when he locked you out of his room. You expect as much out of someone his age.

But hearing your name?

Maybe being isolated was finally having some bad side effects.

You really can’t relate. Those sorts of feelings hadn’t been programed into you and quite frankly you wanted nothing to do with them. They only led to trouble, from your point of view. They led to Dirk losing contact with one of his three only friends, and now to this fuckery.

But it did explain Dirk’s sudden frenzy to get away from here.

You wonder about how deep it went. Did he use you as a fantasy, or was he actually developing some sort of irrational lust for you?

Either way you didn’t like it.

“Yo, what the hell are you doing up here? It’s going to rain soon.”

You turn and look over your shoulder, scrutinizing Dirk as he stands in the doorway. He looks normal, and nothing about him betrays what you now both know.

You resent him for that. Dirk has been pissing you off for days now and worrying Roxy to the point she actually asked you to check up on him. While you couldn’t feel legitimate anger, you certainly could mimic it.

“Since when do you care?” You stand up and regard him with contempt. Ha, you guess androids can feel that particular emotion. “Don’t worry bro, your science project won’t be docked points for water damage.”

He rolls his eyes behind his shades. “Whatever man. Just come inside.”

“No, you come here.” You slip into a stance, finally succumbing to the urge to smack some sense into Dirk.

Dirk crosses his arms. “I’m not strifing you.”

“Why not? You’ve been slacking, bro. We haven’t sparred hand-to-hand in months.”

“Because it’s going to rain soon, you fucking jackass.”

“Then we’ll stop when it rains. Now come on, since when do you shoot down a round of ‘ _fisticuffs’_?” You smirk as you drawl out the last word, knowing it would do the trick.

Sure enough, Dirk’s hands ball into fists. “Fuck you, fine. Just don’t bitch at me when I have to repair you afterwards.”

“We’ll see about that.” You narrow your eyes as he squares off in front of you, form mirroring your own. Normally you’d trade kicks and blows, testing each other for strength and power. But right now you’ve had enough of Dirk Strider, and you want a good old fashion fight.

So when Dirk’s fist predictably swings up to hit your shoulder, you duck and sock him hard in the stomach.

He doubles over with a startled wheeze. “Dude, what the _fuck_?”

“Get up and fight me.”

He throws himself into it immediately and you retaliate with glee. He pulls back from one of your punches and sends a kick at your shin, looking to damage the small metal plate that doesn’t fit quite right yet.

You swear and jump back, switching feet as you send a kick of your own his way. He blocks it easily and begins stepping away from you, keeping space between your bodies.

But you don’t want space. He’s been avoiding you like the plague and you’re ready to infect him like he so desperately fears.

You drop your stance and tackle him, sending the two of you into the hard gravel ground.

Above you, thunder booms as swollen clouds begin to amass over your home. You hear it distantly, your senses focused on the boy between your legs.

Dirk swears colorfully and punches at your chest, fighting to get away from you. You have him trapped beneath you, and he jerks in pain as you squeeze his hips too tightly with your thighs.

Then he _slaps_ you, an open-handed smack right across the face, and you are so surprised that he manages to wiggle out from under you. You recover in time to block a kick to your head and you scramble back up to your feet.

Dirk’s face is flushed and his shoulders are bloodied, but his breathing is irritably regular. He begins a series of blows towards your neck and face, forcing you back as you try and swipe your foot under his legs.

He hops backwards and you laugh mockingly, your fist already streamlining its way towards his gut.

Dirk tries to avoid it by stepping backwards, but he’s run out of room. You watch with hungry anticipation as his back collides with the side of the roof entrance.

Thunder rolls across the sky and little droplets begin to fall as you step in close and grab his throat, pinning him there with your superior strength.

“Hal, fuck, stop it!” Dirk spasms and thrashes as your grip tightens, kicking at you while you stare him down.

You feel his feet connect with your legs and the pressure registers dimly in your mind. His nails are scratching at your synthetic skin, no doubt tearing through it and exposing your black metal casing.

More water begins to pelt you both, but all you can see is Dirk.

His eyes are wide behind his shades, and you use your free hand to return a gesture.

Dirk cries out when you slap him, and you grin with all your teeth at how deeply satisfying it was.

Suddenly you lose connection with the toes in your right foot, and you finally realize that it’s raining.

Dirk’s watering, orange eyes are not enticing enough to make you want to completely short-circuit, so you release him.

He crumples to the ground by your feet, coughing and gasping. His neck is red where you held him and you bet there will be bruising tomorrow.

“Hal, what the fuck was that?” Dirk snaps, voice rough and strained as he gingerly touches his neck.

You don’t have an answer for him. You instead survey your body and make note of some minor surface damages, nothing too bad. What concerns you is your foot, which has gone completely numb.

You feel a tug on your arm and look up to see Dirk staring at you expectantly.

“It’s raining, get inside. Jesus do you want your body to be ruined?”

You step inside the staircase with him, following him down automatically. Now that the moment is over, you don’t really know what you were attempting to go for. Fighting Dirk was pointless, no matter how irritating he was.

Still, you did enjoy holding him by his throat.

“I can’t feel my right foot,” you say neutrally, and then smirk when Dirk makes an exasperated sound.

As he goes off to find the necessary tools to repair you, you go into his room and run through a couple ideas. Getting Dirk off this hunk of metal would be next to impossible, at least for the time being. That left two options; constant exposure or complete abandonment.

If you leave Dirk alone he might redirect his weird issues towards someone more…organic.

However, if you over expose him to you then maybe it would fade. Exposure therapy, or something.

The problem most likely originated from being isolated from others and then suddenly finding himself with a person in his constant vicinity. You frown and mull it over. Perhaps if Dirk just got used to having you so close he wouldn’t regard it as a nuance anymore.

“Sit down so I can fix your foot,” Dirk grumbles, interrupting your pondering.

You sit and then stick your foot in his face, smirking when he smacks it away and insults you. Exposure therapy it is.

He fixes your foot quickly enough, used to the issues brought on by the ill-fitting panel in your shin.

“I’ll need to mix a new batch of silicon for your arm. I’ll do it tomorrow.” Dirk stands and stretches, groaning as his injured shoulders protest.

Spotting an opportunity, you get up and step in close to look at them. “You’re bleeding, dude.”

Dirk tries to stumble back from your sudden closeness, but you fix your hand to his upper arm firmly, keeping him near.

“That shit needs to be disinfected and bandaged. I don’t want your flesh bag dripping all over the place.”

“I can do it,” Dirk protests as you lead him towards his bathroom. “Seriously Hal, stop.”

“You can’t reach the back of your shoulders, genius. They’ll just get infected. Stop being a little bitch and just stay still.” You park him in the bathroom and open the cabinet, pulling out some alcohol wipes and bandages.

“Since when do you care,” Dirk mutters, watching you warily. He’s reverted back to being twitchy in your presence, which you pointedly ignore.

“Since I started living here, now stay still.” You take out one of the wipes and press it against his shoulder, sweeping it under the strap of his tank top and then back again. It would be easier without his shirt on, but you think Dirk might have an aneurysm if you asked. So you settle for this, making sure to press your other hand against his skin under the pretense of steadying him.

Your fingers are placed strategically against the base of his neck, so you notice the second his pulse begins to skyrocket.

You are oddly amused by this.

Dirk is staying statue still, not so much as twitching as you run the wipe carefully over the injured areas. His skin is pink and scraped up, but nothing too bad. He probably doesn’t need bandages either, but you reach for them anyway.

You make a point of pressing against him as you grab the bandages, hearing the catch in Dirk’s breathing before straightening back up again.

Dirk is terrible at hiding anything from you.

Your lips curl upwards into a smirk as you begin placing the bandages, smoothing them out with your hands until you deem him sufficiently healed and frazzled.

The second you step away Dirk is gone like a shot, leaving you to laugh silently in his wake. This might be more fun than you previously anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roxy: extend the seductive olive branch of feelings  
> Hal, while strangling Dirk: like this???
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments!! They're such a treat ^u^


	4. Chapter 4

Your name is Dirk Strider and you’ve never experienced this sort of feeling before. Ever since your strife on the roof, Hal has been in your space every second of the day. He’s taken every opportunity to touch you, brush past you, or hover heart-pounding close just to tell you something snide.

His demeanor hasn’t changed though, and his tongue remains as barbed as ever when addressing you.

You haven’t had so much contact in all your life and it’s driving you wild.

On one hand it makes your libido act up and sends you scooting away to your room. But on the other hand, you have begun to crave Hal’s presence like a drug.

Right now you have Trollian open and your mouse hovering over Roxy’s icon, hesitant. You feel bad for avoiding your friends for so long. Even Jake has left you a few tentative messages.

You close the chat client and open up your video call instead, selecting Roxy’s username and hitting call before you can think of an excuse not to.

The call rings once before Roxy answers, popping into view with a huge smile on her face.

“Dirk!”

You smile back, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. “Hey Rolal, how’s it going?”

She’s in her bedroom by the look of it, but decked out in a rather fancy purple dress rather than her usual t-shirt and leggings.

“Shit’s great! I found yet another frickin secret room, this one filled with hella nice clothes. They fit me too! Pro’ly my mom’s.”

“How many is this now? Six?”

“Yeah somethin’ like that. Lady was super paranoid or whatever. But Dirk, what the hey, you can’t just vanish for weeks like that! We were super worried.”

“Yeah, sorry, you know how I get sometimes with my work.” You feel a pang of guilt at your weak excuse. You don’t really want to let her know though, it might get her hopes up about seeing you.

“Excuses excuses,” Roxy says, waving her hand. “But hey guess what! Muttie had her babies!”

“Oh hey, congrats. Does that make you a grandmother or something?”

Roxy laughs. “You betcha! And you’re the estranged Uncle who sends my babies dead fish.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that.” You rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

“Who are you talking to?” A voice says, and you jolt as Hal enters the room.

“Ohmigosh, Hal! Hi!” Roxy calls, waving vigorously as Hal comes into sight in the camera.

Hal smirks and leans over your shoulder, face uncomfortably close to your own. Cue your over reactive heartbeat. “Hey Rox, you look nice.”

Roxy winks at the both of you. “Damn right I do, bb. I found some sweet loot!”

“Aw shit, how sweet are we talkin’ here?” Hal’s voice is right by your ear, making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Hella sweet! If I wasn’t eye-candy already then this dress would do it!”

Hal laughs and Roxy joins him, and you take the brief opportunity to try and shift away. Sadly for you, Hal mistakes this as more room to invade.

“Dude, scoot your ass over, there’s room for two.” He nudges you and oh hell no you are not sharing a chair with him.

“Fuck off, get your own chair.” You swat at him and then make a strangled noise when he sits in your lap instead. “Hal, get the fuck off me!”

Roxy snickers as you frantically try and upend him. “Aw come on Dirk, let him have some screen time with Mama Rolal, I haven’t seen his face in forever!”

“Did you miss it?” Hal simpers, and you can just feel that bastard batting his eyelashes at Roxy. That is in no way funny or ironic and god dammit he’s still refusing to move.

Hal and Roxy snip at each other playfully for a few minutes while you try everything in your power not to think too deeply on the situation you’re in. God help you if you pop a boner right now because there is no way in hell Hal won’t notice. And knowing that asshole, he’d make some sort of comment about it right in front of Roxy.

Death by social embarrassment was so not how you pictured departing this shit world.

Hal’s weight vanishes and you blink, surprised by the sudden loss.

He makes some cheeky remark about how bony your calcium sticks are before leaving, and fuck your body feels unnaturally warm now.

“Ha, DiStri, you look like you’re blushing. Did that robo lap dance get you all hot and bothered?”

“Roxy what the hell.” You keep your voice as flat as possible as you will the heat in your cheeks to leave.   

“Aw I’m just joking. What’s with the look?” Roxy purses her lips at you in mock sympathy.

“Nothing, there’s no look.”

“There is too a look, and it’s lookin’ like the trademark Strider Poker Face. The very face you used to pull back in the day when I’d ask you about…huh.”

“’Huh’ what.” Your heart is flipping shit again and this time it has nothing to do with Hal’s presence. Roxy has this thoughtful look on her face that means you might be in some serious danger of Lalonde mind-fuckery.

“Huh as in ‘huh you used to get all closed off when I’d ask about Jake’ huh.”

“Can we not talk about him.”

“Yeah okay, but you gotta do me a solid.”

“What’s that?”

“Call Janey too. She’s super worried.”

You settle back in your chair and sigh. “Yeah, will do. I was planning on it after this anyway.”

Roxy smiles at you and you realize with a stab that she looks a little different. Her face is a tad thinner and her hair a bit longer, though still styled the same. In her new dress she looks remarkably mature, and you wonder how you must look to her.

“Don’t be a stranger, Dirk,” Roxy says.

“I won’t. Bye, Rox.”

You end the call and run your fingers through your hair, tugging them through the product you use to cement it into place. You continue until your hair feels soft again, and then you get up to wash the rest of the gel out in the sink.  

You stay in the bathroom longer than usual. It’s become one of your few safe places now that Hal has decided that personal space is a bullshit social construct that needs to be obliterated.

You sigh through your nose as you tug at the ends of your damp hair, irritated by how long it’s gotten. You don’t want to leave just yet, knowing Hal will be waiting for you.

Instead you turn on the shower, shed your clothes, and step in. You figure this might buy you a couple more hours to yourself. You need to call Jane, and you’re sure Roxy will let Jake know that you’re okay.

The thought of Jake makes something sharp in your chest twist, and you swallow down the thick taste of guilt that rises up. It’s been months since you’ve talked to him, really talked, and you hate how it’s left a hole in your life.

You really fucked that one up.

Your relationship with Jane has become strained as well, no thanks to you.

You continue to pick at your wrongdoings and wallow as the water rushes over you. Roxy was right, you really need to call Jane. You miss her.

You miss all of them.

With a sigh you hurry through your shower routine, lost in thought as you finally turn the water off and step out.

“Wow, that was fast. Did the water filter break or something?”

“Hal, what the fuck!”

Hal gives you an amused look as you quickly grab a towel and wrap it around your waist, impervious to the ugly look you’re throwing at him.

“What? You’re usually in there for three hours. How was I supposed to know you’d cut it down?”

“What the fuck are you even doing in here? Get out!”

“What’s wrong? I’ve seen you naked before. We used to be the same person, remember?”

You flush up to your hairline and secure the towel a little higher up on your hips. “Why are you even in here?”

“No reason.” Hal’s smirk curls up a little higher and you feel like hitting him. You might, except you know that would end in a scuffle on the floor and you don’t want to do that in only a towel. The thought of that makes the heat in your face increase, and with a grumble you shove past him and go into your room.

Stupid android roommate.

You quickly throw on some clothes and grab your computer, marching past Hal and ignoring whatever bullshit he says as you pass.

Once on the roof, you get yourself situated in the shade of the wall where the door is. Before you can overthink it, you click Jane’s name and hit call.

No matter how many times you call your friends you always get jittery listening to it ring. It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but making phone calls has always put you on edge.

“ _Dirk Strider!_ ”

“Jane,” you begin, only to be cut off as her camera flicks on and you get the full force of her anger. She’s standing up and has her hands on her hips, lips pursed out and eyes narrowed as she glares at you.

“What the hell, buster! You can’t just disappear like that!”

“I know, Roxy already read me the riot act.”

“I—she, oh. Okay, good!” Jane’s arms drop and she shakes her head, curls bouncing.

“I missed you,” you say, throat tight.

That gets a smile, and you feel your shoulders loosen as she makes a swatting motion at you.

“I missed you too, Mr. Strider.”

And like that, you’re forgiven.

You don’t deserve such wonderful friends.

“What have you been doing all this time? Bustin’ your noggin open over another one of your ideas?”

“Something like that. Contemplating my existence, searching for meaning, trying to teach a robot how to love.”

Jane snorts. “How is your newest housemate? Well, shucks, he’s not so new anymore. How long has it been, a few months?”

“Try a couple years.”

“What! Oh jeez, time really flies. Tell Hal I say hello, will you?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. He’s got some super-secret chat client he made to talk to Roxy, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to add another contact in it. Don’t tell him I told you though, he thinks he’s got that shit locked up like Fort Knox.”

“Hoohoo, I won’t!”

“So what have you been doing? Still under house arrest?”

Jane’s mouth twists and she pulls up a chair, settling down in it. “Not quite. Things have been getting a little weird around here. I’m turning eighteen in a month and I’m the only heir to my grandmother’s baking company, right?”

Your own mouth twists down now, but you don’t say much other than nod for her to continue.

“So now they want to send me to go live with her and learn the trade! My dad is against it but apparently it was decided a while ago that this would happen. My grandma, or maybe she’s my great grandma…shucks, I have no idea. Anyway, she expects me to move in after my birthday! And I just plum don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to go either, but shit what do I know. Baking boot camp run by some crazy old baking empress might be one hell of an experience.”

Jane chuckles and then sighs. “It’s just a lot to take in, you know? I knew it would happen, but not so soon!”

“What does Roxy think?”

“Oh you know her, she thinks I should run away and live on Jake’s island or something. As if!”

“Not a bad idea, actually. I just hope you like awkward conversations and pictures of blue alien women.”

Jane rolls her eyes and you grin.

“Oh bother that. I haven’t spoken to him in a while anyway. I wish I could live with Roxy, but she says her mom keeps moving her around or something, and I’d hate to impose.”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” You make a note to text Roxy later, knowing she’s feeling bad about the lie. But it’s either that or tell Jane the truth, and both you and Roxy knew that wouldn’t go over well.

“You look lost in thought there, Mr. Strider.”

“Yeah, just thinking about your situation. Since adventure island is out and Roxy’s vagabond house-hopping isn’t an option, why don’t you just move out? You have a fortune under your name, right? Can’t you get your own place? Open up a small bakery and rebel.”

“Hoohoo now that’s an idea! But I’d rather run a joke shop, between you and me.”

“Shit yes.”

Jane’s giggling fades out and she looks at you through the camera, her blue eyes steady and warm. It makes you feel like you’re right there with her, and your shoulders tense with the expectation of her hand on your shoulder.

But it never comes, and never will unless you finish your damn project.

“Dirk, are you really doing okay? I know you said you were, and you seem fine, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Hal has been acting a little weird though. Not bad weird,” you’re quick to add, seeing the suspicion begin to creep over Jane’s frown. “Just a little odd.”

“Odd how?”

“More…uh…well, not as much of an asshole as he could be.”

Jane bursts out laughing and you grimace, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit.

“I think that’s called being normal, Dirk. I’m surprised he’s managed to evade your influence of dousing everything he says in a thousand layers of ironic sincerity. Good for him.”

You roll your eyes behind your shades. “Yeah yeah. Okay Jane, I’ll call you later.”

“Not two months later! It better be within the week!”

“Yes ma’am,” you drawl, lowering your shades to drop a wink.

She smiles at you, cheeks dimpling, and then you end the call.

Man you love her. You’ll have to try and bring Roxy with you to see her once you get your project up and running. You know they’d both love that more than anything. The three of you finally being together sounds like something out of your wildest fantasies, and for a second you allow yourself to dwell on the impossible.

Jane owning her little joke shop, Roxy getting a gig working with computers, you designing merchandise that would stun the folks of that time period. All three of you living in an apartment that smells like Jane’s baking.

You’re not quite sure what the smell would be, but you think it’d be amazing.

You wouldn’t be alone anymore and you could leave this hunk of salt encrusted metal behind. Except…Hal would be there too.

Your fantasy grinds to a halt as you realize you condemned him to the life you’re so desperately trying to escape. You could leave him here, sure, but Roxy would murder you and the thought is making you queasy for a reason you don’t care to examine.

So…bring him?

You stare blankly ahead of you as your dream apartment suddenly holds a new resident, still too close for comfort.

“Dirk, what the fuck are you doing up here for so long? You’ve already burned your shoulders, you idiotic UV-light-prone organism. Get inside before you die an early and tragic death via cell mutation.”

You look over at Hal, surprised he came up the stairs without you hearing him. Your shoulders are feeling a bit warm though, so you begrudgingly grab your laptop and head inside without any commotion.

You can feel Hal’s eyes weighing you down as you descend ahead of him, perhaps confused by your obedience, but you’re too deep in thought again to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Roxy and Jane. They're so nice and not problematic  
> //lookin at you, Striders//
> 
> I love getting comments from ya'll! ^u^


	5. Chapter 5

Dirk is talking to his friends again. You watch from the hall as he chatters away with Jane, swapping name ideas about her fantasy joke shop. You got her number programmed into your own private chat site after you got her to swear not to tell Dirk about it. You’re not entirely sure why Jane wants to talk to you, but you find yourself appreciating the addition to your list of people you know who don’t hate you.

You’re still not quite sure where Dirk stands on that list.

You’ve been tormenting him steadily, and now you’re just waiting for a lull in the conversation to come in and make your move.

You’re not sure how you’re going to top your ‘there’s not enough room on the chair so I need to sit on your lap’ move, but you have a couple ideas.

Whoops, there’s your cue.

“Dirk,” you drawl, walking in as Dirk ends the conversation. “I’m bored.”

“How can you be bored? There’s a ton of shit to do around here. Go improve the water filter or make the generator less shitty.”

“Nah.” You drape your arms over his shoulders and lean down, tightening your hold when he tries to lean away. “Entertain me.”

“Fuck off, Hal. I’m going to work on my project.”

“Shit’s not going anywhere, dude. It’s more stationary than your current location in this time period—ow.” You frown when Dirk smacks you, wondering if you struck a nerve.

“Don’t ‘ow’ me, asshole. I know you can’t feel pain.” Dirk manages to squirm away from you and stand up, eyeing you as he makes his way towards his bed.

You roll your eyes and move after him. “So what? That was the appropriate response.”

“For a human, maybe. Why do you even bother with that shit anyway? We all know who you are, dude, you don’t have to play up these nuances to fool us.”

_No, just to blend in._

“Maybe I do feel pain.”

Now it’s Dirk’s turn to roll his eyes. He sits on the edge of his bed and regards you impatiently. “Oh stop the bullshit feelings-shtick, we both know it’s overplayed. I was talking about physical pain and you know it.”

You smirk, leering over him as he continues to look unimpressed. “Overplayed because I can’t comprehend them, or overplayed because my map of them came from some seriously stunted framework?”

A flash of annoyance crosses Dirk’s face, but you’re not done yet. You lean in closer, forcing him back so you can place your hands on the bed.

“Or maybe you can’t stand the thought of the fake-you having a wider emotional range than the homegrown flesh and bones original?”

“Fuck off, you haven’t been me in five years. People grow, people change.”

“People do change,” you say, looking Dirk over with lazy indifference. “But you’re too damn stubborn for change.”

Dirk kicks out at you and you stumble back, rubbing the spot out of a habit too deeply ingrained to ignore. A quick scan shows Dirk is merely annoyed, and you huff. Damn, you should have tried harder.

“Seriously dude? You’re bored so you’re trying to pull the whole ‘I’ve surpassed my creator blah blah’ crap? Jesus you really have deviated from me.”

“I’m the new and improved model, obviously. Better body, richer emotional experience, and enough mind power to fuck your shit over and still be ready for round two. Don’t worry, kiddies, I come with a special adult package too.”

You wink and stick your tongue between two of your fingers in a lewd gesture, finally provoking a reaction out of Dirk. His red face and irritated tittering make you laugh.

“Fuck, fine, what do you want to do?”

“Movie?” You offer the first thing that springs to mind. He mulls it over for a second and you put on your best ‘do what I want’ expression, which you guess needs a little work judging by Dirk’s raised eyebrow.

“Alright, but I swear to fuck if you put in 2001: A Space Odyssey again you’ll be making your own repairs for a month.” Dirk shoves you away and gets up, grabbing a pillow from his bed as he heads out towards the living room.

“Oh please, you love that movie. It’s hilarious and anyway, as if you’d let anybody but your own tight ass near your precious science project.”

Dirk throws you a look and then flops down on the couch, taking his usual seat by the corner.

Fucking predictable as shit.

You take this beautifully presented opportunity to sit as close to him as possible, effectively crowding him into his corner as you run through movie options.

“Titanic.”

“What? No. I don’t need that bullshit and speaking of, get out of my space.”

“Fuck off, you’re basically me so it’s my space too. Back to the Future?”

“Dude, stop naming every horrible movie and pick something decent.”

“That’s a god damn classic and you know it. March of the Penguins?”

Dirk groans and snatches the remote off the table. “You’re doing this on purpose, you ass. We’re watching The Land Before Time just for that.”

“Augh god no, it’s so fucking inaccurate. Please, oh mighty creator, spare me the cruelty and put on Air Bud instead. At least the dogs are played by the right fucking species!”

Dirk snorts and clicks on Space Jam, which you grudgingly accept. At least the animals in this movie are more or less drawn accurately.

You hardly pay attention to the screen, you’ve seen it before and Dirk is just so much more interesting than the plot of an ancient movie. You heard him again last night, not that it was hard with your superior sense of, well, everything. You felt oddly pleased with how weak he sounded, how soft his voice had been. You like thinking of Dirk as vulnerable.

He’s focused on the movie now, relaxed and unaware of your scrutiny. You bet if you curled your fingers around his neck you could feel his pulse. You wonder how his pulse fluctuates when he says your name, how his skin heats up with shame and excitement.

You smirk to yourself and turn your eyes back to the movie. His motives may be cloudy to you, but Dirk’s reactions will always be something you can rely on.

You take this time to execute another one of your little experiments. The thought of Dirk’s body reacting without his consent always gives your coding a nice little jump. You like to pretend it’s happiness, or at least the digital version of it.

Your arms find their way to the back of the couch, draping casually over the cushions and, oh look at that, Dirk’s shoulders as well.

You know he notices, little neurotic bastard doesn’t let much slip by him. And you know he knows that you don’t do anything involuntarily. The only question is whether he’ll take your bait or continue to play dumb.

Dirk’s features remain unchanged, but you can read the slight tension coiling its way through his body.

Score.

No reaction yet, but that will change soon.

There’s no space between the two of you, and you know how that must be driving him crazy. Dirk never liked anything in his space to begin with, probably due to growing up touch-starved and being afraid to let his desperation for human contact show. But that was just with his robots, not someone who was, well not human, but close enough.

You lean into him, just enough for him to feel the warmth from under your false skin.

Dirk shifts, and you feel a surge of triumph before you realize he’s turning to face you. Confrontation time, huh? Good. You love arguing with him, it’s probably your favorite pastime.

You shift too, turning to him with a smirk, only to pause when you read his neutral expression. He is overthinking, sizing you up, but for what you can’t tell. That’s not his argument pose. You frown, open your mouth to say something, but then he’s grabbed you by the front of your shirt and yanked you forward.

It doesn’t compute. You don’t understand what’s happening.

Dirk’s eyes are closed and his brow is drawn tight as he kisses you fiercely, his authentic skin pressed demandingly against your silicone lips.

It’s warm, you dully recognize. Your code for current thought is jumping everywhere, and like hell you can rearrange it into anything other than shock.

Then it’s over, Dirk is jerking upright and leaving so quickly you don’t even realize it until his door slams.

The movie winds down in the background, music blaring on unheard as you try and catch up.

Okay, facts: Dirk kissed you.

Another fact: you never in a million years would have thought he would do something about your little game.

You need to call Roxy because this is unnerving you a lot more than it should.

You go to the roof on autopilot, making as little noise as possible. It’s the middle of the afternoon and the top of the roof is burning, but you couldn’t care less about marring your replaceable skin.    

Instead you sit on the edge and dangle your feet over, running your hand over the rumpled area of your shirt where Dirk grabbed you. Not your shirt, actually, just some of Dirk’s clothes you use. Technically they were once yours too, but that’s a weird thing to think about.

You pull up your calling program and hit Roxy’s name without thinking.

“Roxy,” you say immediately when the phone line clicks, “I have a problem. That thing you told me to do? It’s not working out. My seductive olive branch of totally ironic robo-feelings has been turned into a lethal weapon.”

“ _What happened now?”_ Roxy says, and you pause as your mind does a quick run through of her voice.

“Rox.”

_“Hmm?”_

“Are you…crying?”

She makes a funny little hiccupping noise that sounds too watery for your tastes. _“M’fine. Tell me about your olive branch.”_

“No, fuck that, you tell me what’s wrong. Between Dirk and I you’ve heard enough of our bullshit to last into the next century. It’s your turn to talk. We can pretend its ladies night and we’re on the hair braiding train. Choo choo, Lalonde, no secrets on this train wreck. The nail polish of truth is coming out soon, manicures of our deepest darkest secrets that look suspiciously like dollar store red.”

Roxy giggles and you manage to stop your mindless dialogue before it derails any farther.

_“It’s nothing, really. It’s just…”_

“Just…?” you prompt as gently as you can.

_“I’m alone.”_

“You’re not—” you begin to say, and then your voice dies out when she makes a horrible choking noise that sounds exactly like what Dirk makes when he’s trying not to cry.

_“I am!! Janey has her Dad and Dirk has you and Jake has anybody if he’d just leave that island! But I don’t. I know this sounds so dumb but I just feel so fuckin’ alone here.”_

You stare sightlessly at the ocean below you. You try and think of something to say to prove her wrong, anything.

“You’re not alone,” is what you manage to say after several quiet minutes only broken by Roxy’s sniffling. “You have me. And Dirk. We all live in the same time. You’re not alone, Roxy.”

_“It’s this house, Hal. It’s so big and empty and what am I supposed to do here? My mom’s stuff is just shoved everywhere and it feels like she shoved me here too.”_

You don’t know what to say to that. Abandonment issues towards legendary guardians is definitely more of Dirk’s strong suit than yours.

_“Anyway, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. How’s things on your end?”_

You feel two inches all right about now. Whatever problems you’re having were your own damn fault, caused by your insistent meddling in shit you didn’t understand. That, compared to what Roxy just told you, made you feel what you imagined would be ‘nauseous’ if you had a stomach.

“Everything is fine. Would it make you feel better if I sent you some of Dirk’s old fan art of himself in Naruto? That shit is comedy gold, I promise.”

Roxy laughs and you feel the weight on your chest lighten slightly.

You both talk for a bit more before she ends the call, and you head downstairs with a single minded purpose.

Dirk’s door is closed and most definitely locked, but you knock on it anyway.

“Dirk you have ten seconds to open this door before I break it.”

“Fuck off,” comes the muffled reply.

“Nine…eight…”

There’s a muted swear and some thumping before Dirk yanks open the door, a scowl set heavy on his face.

“Hal I swear to god—”

“Talk to Roxy,” you say loudly, overriding him.

“I—what?”

“Roxy. Talk to her. She’s upset.”

Dirk’s scowl melts into concern. “Why? Is she okay?”

You make a shooing motion with your hands and watch until you see him retreat back into his room towards the computer. Dirk will know how to handle it, you remember doing so back when you were one person. He’s the person Roxy really needs right now, not some shitty replica who can’t handle any emotion outside of bitter resentment.

You leave them to it and abscond to the roof until well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the ball begins to roll...
> 
> I really appreciate your comments, they fuel my work!


	6. Chapter 6

Hal hasn’t brought up the kiss once. No bantering, no teasing, and no mocking. He also seems to have rediscovered personal space because you haven’t felt his synthetic skin brush against you in days. This entire thing is freaking you out more than you want to admit.

He’s in the living room now, ignoring you as you trek past him and head up to the roof to fish. Seeing him makes your body do weird things. You want to simultaneously punch him in the face and yet still be allowed as close as possible to him.

The sky is overcast and the ocean looks like a dull, flat blanket below you. You toss some chunks of fish guts into the water and then cast your line, baited with a piece of starfish.

You sit with your legs over the roof and stare idly out at the scenery, pole secured beside you in a cradle you had made years ago.

You think, not for the first time, that you really need to get out of here.

Seagulls cry above you as a salty breeze moves through your hair, dancing along past you and back out to the ocean. It’s peaceful up here, you guess you can see why Hal likes it so much.

Your mind jerks a bit at the thought of him and you try to think of something else.

Your line tugs, mercifully providing you with the distraction you need. You reel in your first fish of the day and dispatch it quickly before casting your line out again. The fish gets tossed into a bucket by your pole.

Hal didn’t do anything when you kissed him. He just…sat there.

You frown and cross your arms tightly. You would like to imagine it was just a normal response except that his behavior had changed directly after it.

You groan and flop back against the gravel, squinting up at the sky as your stomach anxiously ties itself into knots. You hate this uncertainty.

The line tugs again, and you halfheartedly reel in another fish from your sprawled position. It goes in the bucket like the other one, and you stick your last piece of starfish on the hook.

“What’s his deal, anyway,” you mutter angrily as you cast your line once more. “Fucker gets all up in my space and then suddenly; whoops, never mind.”

“I mean,” you continue, now back on the ground, “he didn’t do _anything_. A punch would have been basic common decency or at least some sort of ‘dude, what the fuck’, but all I get is moody robot brooding? Shit, maybe I caused it indirectly with my bullshit feelings. I already sabotaged one potential relationship with my ass backwards emotions, why not another? It’s probably some sort of illness. Maybe they can bond over it together while I die alone.”

“Jesus _Christ_ will you shut up? I can hear you from downstairs.”

You jerk upwards and whip around to meet Hal’s impassive stare.

“What are you doing here, aren’t you avoiding me or some shit?” You try and read him, desperate for any sort of clue, but all the bastard gives you is a bored indifference.

“Oh yeah, because of my, what was it? Pathological ailment due to emotions in my vicinity? My anti-virus system just crumbled in the wake of your teenage hormones, well done you.”

Something inside of you wrenches and you’re on your feet in seconds, red faced and pissed off beyond belief. You’re pissed because like fuck you’re going to acknowledge the part of you that feels like he just slapped you. “You know what, Hal? Fuck you. Fuck you and your asinine horseshit.”

“I thought you wanted me to do the fucking, if your late night solo sessions are anything to say about that topic.”

He’s smirking now, open arrogance coating his features with ease.

You _hate_ him. Your entire body is burning with loathing and you feel a surge of adrenalin that makes everything fall away from your world but Hal. Because he is your world. It’s you and him on this hunk of metal and you are going to _kill him._

There’s a glorious second between when you draw your sword and when he realizes what’s happening. It’s all the time you need, and you drive your sword at him with vicious intent.

Hal barely avoids it in time. As it is, your sword point tears through the fake skin on his ribs and screeches horribly against his metal chassis.

You whirl around and this time, when you swing, it’s blocked by another sword.

You can’t read Hal’s face, but you think you might never have been able to. He’s not you anymore, and yet you don’t think you’ve ever actually known him.

“I hate you,” you say breathily, eyes trained on him as you pour every ounce of strength behind your harsh swipes.

His eyes widen, beautiful and crimson, and it just makes you want to hurt him. You need to see that smug exterior broken, you need him to crumble, you need him to fucking _break_.

You don’t know if you’re saying your thoughts out loud or if they were conveyed on your face, but Hal takes a step away from you and your onslaught looking a bit surprised.

You don’t let him get away.

You can’t.

You need him.

You follow him, careful footwork and meticulous strikes as he parries and hits back. You dimly feel the sting of a cut on your forearm, and another to your cheek. It doesn’t register and you push on, trying to back him into a corner.

But Hal’s too good for that, always has been. He drives his sword point at your hand, forcing you to jerk back to keep your fingers attached. There’s a clang, and suddenly you’re empty handed.

You’re panting, chest heaving as you try and find some way to get to him. He’s talking, but you can’t hear it over the roar in your head. Sweat runs down your back and something hot and wet rolls down your chin.

You lunge at him, spotting an opening, and he catches you in the gut with the hilt of his sword. You drop to your knees in front of him, sucking in a strangled gasp of air.

There are hands in your hair, guiding you back, and you fold like a house of cards.

He follows you down, the gavel crunching beneath his knees. Hal is looming over you, staring you down and closer than he’s been in days. He’s waiting for something, maybe for you to speak. To yield.

Instead you stare up at him from the ground with all the contempt you can muster.

“Is that how you want it to be?” Hal asks, voice so quiet you can barely hear him. Your shades have fallen off, you’re not sure when, but you crave their security when he’s this close to you, hovering over your body like a vulture.

You continue to glare, feeling petulant and miserable. The power you had felt earlier has faded back into a familiar uncomfortable burning, and your bruised stomach is once again twisting all around.

Hal’s hand is on your throat now, and you blink at the sudden contact. It’s not tight, but still firm enough to hold you in place. It’s warm, soft, like you imagine a real hand might feel like.

It’s too much.

You try and pull away but Hal doesn’t let you, his expression settling into something you still can’t understand.

“So be it.”

Hal’s hand squeezes a bit, pushing up under your chin to force your head up. You part your lips to say something, demand to be released, but then he leans down and kisses you.

It’s not sweet, far from it, but it’s everything you ever wanted and more.

Your body reacts like it’s been electrocuted, seizing up and then pressing back down into the hard rooftop for purchase. Your hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him with a filthy desperation that you don’t care shows.

He’s so close, too close, body caging you in and overwhelming your senses. Hal kisses with teeth and tongue and you fight back with the same vigor.

You can taste your blood on his tongue and you moan when his teeth catch your lip. Everything feels like fire and you can’t think.

Then Hal’s gone, pulling away and wiping your blood and saliva from his mouth. He stands up and leaves you there, lips swollen and pupils blown as you try and remember how to breathe.

You sit up slowly, your pulse hammering away. Everything aches in a sore, perfect way. You massage your stomach lightly, feeling where a bruise is already forming. There’s a hot, needy pressure building between your legs and you whine, squeezing your thighs together and breathing evenly in a hope to calm yourself down.

Hal fucking kissed you.

Your body sends a pulse of heat through you and you groan, angry at yourself for how weak you are. It was one kiss and you can barely stand the friction of your own pants against your cock. It was one kiss and you have never felt more turned on in your life.

Hal’s not coming back up, you know that, but the thrill of him catching you drives you up the wall. He knows. He knows and he didn’t say no.

He didn’t say you were disgusting.

Your hand slides from your stomach down between your legs without a thought, and you can’t stop the embarrassing noises that spill from your mouth.

Hal had been on top of you, pinning you to the roof and kissing you bloody.

You fumble with your zipper and yank it down, sighing as you pull your cock free. You’ll think about the connotations of the kiss later. All you need to think about right now is how his hand felt on your throat when he held you down. The way your blood tasted on his lips.

“Oh god, yes,” you pant, shuddering helplessly as you stroke yourself.

You can’t stop, you’re already too close and you want it so badly. You hate him so much and yet you’re splayed out on the roof touching yourself to the thought of him.

“ _Please_ ,” you gasp, arching into it as you imagine him above you again. You can see his cold, red eyes boring into you. You can feel his hands on you cock, rough and skilled and tantalizingly real.

You choke back a moan and grit your teeth, desperate to draw it out just a little longer. The heat coiling in your abdomen is making your sneakers scrabble against the rocks but you don’t care if you make too much noise. It doesn’t matter anymore.

_He knows._

You come with a loud cry, stroking yourself through your orgasm as you whimper Hal’s name. Your body feels strung up and high with relief as pleasure washes you out. You wearily drop your hand to the side and lie there for a brief moment, shaking as your overwhelmed body tries to find the strength to get you back downstairs.

You tug off your shirt and clean yourself up with it, grunting when you find the cuts Hal left you. Your shades are half way across the roof, but thankfully unbroken.

The line you had baited had snapped at some point during your episode, and you dully mourn the loss of yet another hook. You pick up the rod and the fish bucket and then put your shades back on.

You trudge down in some sort of daze to stuff your filthy shirt into the wash.

On the way to the kitchen to freeze the fish you pass Hal, who is examining the scratch you left on his ribs.

“You’re going to need to make me more silicone for this,” he grumbles, prodding at the split flesh.

You relax and roll your eyes, shoving past him. “You’re more than capable of making it yourself.”

Hal watches you as you put the fish on ice, his smug expression still in place. There’s a bit of pink discoloration on his lips, and it makes you flush when you realize it’s your blood.

You reach up and touch your busted lip and cut cheek, scowling. “And if this shit scars I’m going to give you a matching set.”

“Hate you too, bro,” Hal drawls, looking bored.

Your skin prickles and you ignore the easy bait, instead shutting the freezer and then retreating to your room to sort out your thoughts.

You can feel Hal’s stare on you as you go, and your lips tingle at the memory of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like getting comments from ya'll!  
> Hope you enjoy ^u^


	7. Chapter 7

Interactions between the two of you have begun to get increasingly physical, Dirk seeking you out almost automatically despite how you leave him aching and bruised and beyond frustrated.

He doesn’t seem to recognize how much of his desperation he’s letting on, and you revel in every second of it.

Dirk has a weakness, and it’s laughably easy to exploit.

“Will you fucking _stop that?_ ” Dirk grinds out, and you give him your best innocent look. It probably comes off as cocky, but you don’t have much practice looking innocent.

You both are crammed into a corner of Dirk’s workspace as he mixes up a new batch of silicone for you. You have been creeping increasingly closer to him as he quietly works, making bets with yourself on how quickly you could get him to snap at you.

“Stop what? I want to make sure you’re not fucking it up.”

“I made your body, Hal. I know what I’m doing. Now take off the damaged skin patches and stop hovering. Seriously bro, that is some drone-level hovering. Government spies have nothing on you.”

You sit back and remove your shirt, picking at the swath of silicone on your side where Dirk’s sword hit. You find the corner of it and gently peel away a large, rectangular section that covers where your oblique muscles would be if you were a human.

Beneath it is a hard, shiny black case that contains your being.

You hand over the damaged patch and watch as Dirk delicately pours out another mold to replace it. It’ll take a while to settle, but time is something the two of you have a lot of.

This is the last piece to be repaired after your scuffle. Dirk’s cuts were still looking a little pink, but he tried to punch you when you offered to help.

“This won’t be ready for a while, you don’t have to stand there and stare at me,” Dirk says, already making another mold for future use.

“There’s not much else to do around here,” you say, running your fingertips over your chassis. The contrast between your skin and your real body feel odd to you, like you’re touching something you’re not supposed to. It makes your inner workings speed up a little, processing the new sensation and emotions it elicits.

You prefer your black casing to your human one, it feels more natural to you. Why bother pretending to be something you’re not? It’s just Dirk here, and he knows everything about you.

But you still don’t take your silicone off.

Something pings you on your Trollian account, one you made as a joke years ago, and you pull it up out of curiosity because nobody contacts you on— _holy shit is this for real?_

You stare ahead blankly as you process the message, the sender, the color of the text. Your brain is going nuts trying to grasp this and you can’t for the life of you understand what is happening.

“Hal?” A hand touches your shoulder and your eyes snap to Dirk, who looks a little alarmed.

“What.”

“Nothing, you just looked pissed. Like, more pissed than usual. Not your ‘oh look at me I’m so much better than you so I’m going to be all bitchy about it’ face either, like this was—”

You reach out and grab the back of Dirk’s neck, shutting down his rambling with a hard kiss. You do it just because you can, and you have the Trollian message open in your mind as you kiss him.

Dirk makes the best surprised noise, but the way he kisses you like a man starving for air is ten times better. And it’s all yours.

Something in your software adapts, then. Something switches and turns on and you are suddenly very aware of a curling anger in your gut.

You let go of Dirk and stand up, keeping your expression as normal as possible. “I’m going to the roof. Let me know when the mold sets.”

You leave Dirk sitting there with a stunned look and pink, swollen lips. It’s a great look on him.

On the roof you scan the message again, not that you didn’t get everything you needed to know from it a second after receiving it.

You still can’t believe it.

You need to think about this, carefully.

A part of you wants to delete it immediately, pretend you never got it. After all, you haven’t been on that account in a while, it’s very easy to assume you just never check it.

You could tell someone, but your options there are severely limited.

Or, you could respond.

You can’t go back down yet, your silicone patches need a whole day to set and you’re not going to handle this while in the presence of Dirk.

You sit in your usual place, legs dangling over the side as you stare out at the ocean. You should probably handle this as neutrally as possible, but you’re a bit bitter and a lot childish so without further ado you send a curt response.

_GT: AR, I was hoping you could tell me the status of one Dirk Strider? I appear to not be able to reach him through Trollian anymore. You know how that fellow gets with his bits and bobs, but even this is a pretty extended length of radio silence!_

Your lip curls as your response appears below his.

_TT: Why don’t you mind your own business?_

The addition of Dirk’s Trollian tag is mostly out of spite, you have your own, but you know exactly how to push people’s buttons. It’s a talent of yours.

_GT: He is my business! The affairs of chums are affairs of mine!_

_TT: And his affairs have nothing to do with you considering you are hardly “chums” anymore. Keep this up, English, and I’ll block you for the good of common decency._

_GT: Bloody hell! Are you threatening me?_

You don’t answer this one, instead closing the application and resuming staring at the waves. A couple of young seagulls caw forlornly above you, and you play with the idea of catching one and turning it into a pet. Dirk had tried before with a nest of chicks, many many years ago. He’d been heartbroken when they died and hadn’t tried again. You could do it though. You don’t need to sleep, so caring for one would fill the endless quiet of apartment when Dirk’s sleepless nights catch up with him.

You watch them wheeling away in the air, riding the currents high above you.

It doesn’t calm you down.

You pull up your contacts, all two of them, and flip between them idly. You don’t want to talk about the messages, but you do want to talk to someone who doesn’t constantly throw self-deprecating remarks at you disguised as jokes.

Roxy knows you too well, and while that normally would make you feel some odd glowy-feeling you’ve associated as happiness, you don’t want her asking what’s bothering you.

You settle on the other name and consider. You haven’t had many independent conversations with Jane since you finally got your body, but she was never hostile like _he_ was.

You click on it and lean back so you’re staring up at the sky. It’s a bright, lovely blue today, so you take a mental picture and file it away.

_“Hello? Is this Hal?”_

“That’s me, your favorite android copy of your best bro.”

_“You make it sound like there are multiple! But if that is true then yes, you are my favorite, hoo hoo!”_

“Score. So how’s your day going? Anything interesting in the Crocker empire?”

Jane huffs. _“Nothing unusual. Did Dirk tell you about my current predicament?”_

“No, slippery bastard doesn’t tell me anything, you know this. What’s going on?”

_“Oh, well, just some nonsense about inheritance. My great-grandmother wants me to come live with her to get me ready to take over the company. My dad is furious, naturally.”_

You frown, not liking how that sounds. “What do you think?”

_“I think I don’t want any part of it! This was decided for me, and shucks wouldn’t it be nice to have some control over one’s life? Dirk said I should run away and open a joke shop.”_

“I think that’s a great fucking idea. But if you’re going to pull a great escape, you’re going to need a lot of planning. Like, plans for your plans and back-up plans for those. I’m talking Matrix-level planning here, Crocker. Blueprint the entire state. Tunnel to China six different ways and then take a boat.”

Jane laughs at that. _“I don’t know about that! But it would be nice to hide out near you guys or Roxy. She moves around a lot though, doesn’t she?”_

“Yeah,” you lie effortlessly. “Plus I’m pretty sure there are records of our conversations and shit. The government will look for you here first. This conspiracy runs deep, Crocker. You need to change your name and move to Mars.”

_“Yeah…or I could just do it? I know Dirk doesn’t like the idea, but I don’t honestly feel like I have many options. And really, what’s so bad about inheriting a baking empire? That’s pretty nifty!”_

“What does Roxy think?”

_“You know how she is. She thinks everything is a massive conspiracy and my great-grandma is evil or something.”_

“Well, I guess if your two closest friends are saying it’s a bad idea, maybe you should listen.”

_“What do you think?”_

Jane’s tone is almost challenging, and you take a minute to map out a good response. You sit up slowly and settle your hands in your lap. “Have you talked to your dad?”

It’s not an answer, more of a deflective question, but you’re interested to hear the response. Your knowledge of Jane’s dad is very limited, but you know she values his thoughts.

_“Um, he’s not very happy about it. He doesn’t talk about it, but he made three cakes yesterday after he got off the phone with my great-grandma’s lawyer, so that sort of says a lot.”_

“Are Roxy, Dirk, and your dad people you trust?”

_“Huh? Of course they are! That’s a silly question, Hal.”_

“Maybe. But don’t you think that if three people you trust are independently telling you the same thing, you should listen?”

Jane goes quiet for a bit, and you let her think as you occupy yourself with watching the ocean. You can see flashes of silver almost directly beneath you, and you wonder what it would be like to swim.

“Jane, you have the freedom to make your own life,” you say, talking to the fish as the silence on the other end of the line continues. “That is a phenomenal gift. Use it.”

Jane makes a noncommittal noise, but you’ll take it.

_“Whew, well, enough about me. How’s everything over there?”_ Her voice is bright and a little forced, but you don’t comment on it.

“The usual. I mostly called for a change in pace. Dirk’s company, while draining, does get especially obnoxious after a while.”

_“You’ve been spending a lot of time talking together lately, Roxy commented about that earlier. I think it’s great! And yes, Mr. Strider does have an especially tedious personality, hoo hoo!”_

You grin. “You and Rox are a breath of fresh air in comparison.”

Another message pops up in your mental chatlog, and your smile falls into a flat line at record speed.

“Jane, may I ask a personal question?”

_“Go for it.”_

“Have you spoken to Jake English lately?”

_“Hmm. Not really ‘spoken’, per say. We still…uh…well it’s still awkward. Why do you ask?”_

“Just curious. Thanks.”

_“Of course. Now may I ask you a personal question?”_

“Fairs fair.”

_“Is Dirk okay?”_

The question throws you, and you straighten up. “He appears to be, why? Has he been acting weird?”

_“Dirk always acts weird.”_ Jane laughs and then sighs. _“He just sounds a little different lately. More…I don’t know, weary? Tense? He’s hard to map out exactly, but you seem to know him well. Better than I do, anyway. He just seemed a little off when I spoke to him earlier, sort of twitchy.”_

“I’ll look into it. But as far as I know he’s fine.”

_“Good to know! Thank you for the call, Hal. I better go help my dad with dinner.”_

“Not a problem. Bye, Jane.”

She ends the call and you stare at the sun, which has now settled high in the sky. Jane’s decision will eventually influence a lot of things, and you’re more than a little personally invested in the outcome.

What she said about Dirk interests you, and you wonder when she called him that she would’ve noticed his odd behavior. The change in the dynamic of your relationship definitely would be a factor, and it does amuse you that you’re making Dirk paranoid.

But he’s already paranoid, and honestly you’re mildly concerned it’s turning into some sort of condition.

You’ll look into it, and maybe tone down your sporadic appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jane, that sounds stressful
> 
> Happy Halloweekend! 
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, they make my day ^u^


	8. Chapter 8

Tinkering always calms your mind down, helped your thoughts fall into a pattern that you could almost call coherent. Your current project is in front of you, scribbles and hunks of metal and the blueprints of all the Crockercorp tech you own.

You’re fiddling with some scraps of wire now, twisting and braiding them blindly as you try and distance yourself from your project. You’ve been staring at it for so long you know that you can miss something obvious.

Hal said it wasn’t possible, but he was probably talking about your current schematic sketches rather than the entire idea.

So, start over? Go from scratch and take a completely different approach?

You could, if you knew any other way to approach it.

Hence your current fiddling and daydreaming, though you would be lying if you didn’t admit you had an ear out for Hal’s return from his roof excursion. You still don’t completely understand why he goes up there so much. You like it better here, you know everything about every inch of this place. You could probably rebuild it from memory alone. Out there is just an endless expanse of blue, a painful reminder of your isolation.

Frowning, you redirect your thoughts back to your work. You’d ask Hal to help, but the thought makes your stomach twist oddly and your skin heat up.

Being around him is…odd. He hasn’t changed at all, which is infuriating, but there’s still something about how he stares at you that feels different, almost predatory. You know he views this thing you’ve started as yet another human weakness, but damn if you can help it.

Maybe it is a weakness.

“Focus, dammit,” you mutter, curling the wires around your finger until it turns blue.

“Need some help?”

You startle and curse, more at yourself than Hal for not noticing when he came down. “Fucking hell, I need to get you a bell or something. You know the patches aren’t ready yet.”

“A bell for your pet, how original,” Hal deadpans, arching an eyebrow when you finally turn to look at him. He’s really mastering human expression, which is quite the feat given your lack of an example.

“Cut the shit, you know that’s not what I meant.”

Hal moves into your room, looking over your work table. “This still?”

“I’m starting over,” you say, though you hadn’t really decided if you were yet.

“Probably a good idea,” Hal mumbles, picking up a piece of paper and studying it. “Maybe work on what’s possible first, then improve upon it.”

You rub your eyes and lean back in your chair. “Like what?”

“Teleportation is beyond you, dude, especially since you’re going from scratch. Sorry to burst your ego, though I doubt it will deflate much from this realization. Start basic, like speed. Work on how to move something at a high velocity from point A to point B, and then make it faster. Send Roxy a sea urchin or something, she got a kick out of that one.”

“So instead of teleporting, you want me to fling a poisonous and very pointy animal at my best friend at super speed?”

“Yep.”

You honestly can’t tell if he’s bullshitting you, so you just give him an unamused look. “Roxy would need to have a device on her end to catch it safely.”

Hal gives you a pointed look. “Now there’s an idea, informing your friends what’s going on in your life. Sort of what the point of friends are, you know. Talking to them, sharing your deepest emotions and secrets. Or dead sea animals, apparently. Your methods are still a bit beyond me, o mighty creator.”

“Wow, a joke at my expense. Took you five minutes to get to it this time, rather than your usual cutting opening remark about my general incompetence. Are you sick? Should I be concerned?”

It’s Hal’s turn to look unamused now, and you ignore it in favor of straightening up your work space a bit. Mostly because you know it annoys him when you’re not paying attention.

“Anyway, that wouldn’t work. We tried breaking the sound barrier on my rocket board, remember? Ended up ass first in the ocean and attracting all the drones in a hundred mile radius.”

“Maybe conferring with someone else will help. Bounce ideas off them.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” You gripe, aware of how petulant you sound. “And you need to work on your subtly.”

“I’m not trying to be subtle,” Hal says, annoyance ripping through his words. “You act like you’re completely alone in everything you do, despite the repeated attempts of everyone around you to help.”

“Is this analyze Dirk hour? Because you’re shit talking yourself too there, buddy.” You give him a tired look, already done with the conversation.

Hal hasn’t put his shirt back on yet, and know it’s because of how he hates the sensation of cloth against his chassis. You don’t remember programming it to be sensitive, but it’s more than possible Hal has been making modifications to fit his own need. You didn’t design his white hair or red eyes, but they had appeared not too long after his body was functioning.

Curiously, you reach out to touch the expanse of hard, black metal over Hal’s hip. Your fingers come within centimeters before Hal snatches your wrist, holding it painfully tight.

“Don’t.”

You blink and slowly retract your hand.

Hal is staring you down, and a tickle of unease creeps over up your spine. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t have to, and you feel trapped under his incessant look. His hand is still on your wrist, burningly insistent.

Your computer chimes behind you, but when your eyes dart to look at it Hal’s hand squeezes sharply.

You don’t understand this game, but the spike of adrenaline that goes through you is familiar. It’s the same feeling you get before every fight, the feeling you get when you see the red dots of approaching drones on the horizon, and the feeling you get whenever Hal comes too close.

Everything about those scenarios screams danger, but when your computer chimes again you ignore it.

The bones in your wrist are complaining, grinding against each other as he drags you up to him. You let him, you let him manipulate you like a doll because your mind, which normally runs a mile a minute, cannot begin to process this. That alone is exhilarating for you.

You want to touch the exposed part of Hal’s chassis, want to see how he reacts and break his composure. You know he won’t let you, he barely lets you apply his new skin patches as it is.

You want to break him down into something you can handle, something you can understand.

Knowing that he would never let you only makes you more eager to try.

Another chime dimly registers in your mind, but all you can think is of what happened the last time Hal was this close to you. As if reading your mind, Hal arches an eyebrow in a silent question. Or maybe it’s a challenge. You can’t read him anymore, but like hell you’re going to back down from this.

Kissing him doesn’t feel natural, it doesn’t feel like what you’d imagined it would be when you’d talk about it with Roxy as kids.

Hal isn’t anything like what you imagined, but you’re not surprised when his other hand twists itself painfully into your hair. Violence from him feels warm, intimate in a way you crave more than you’d like to admit.

His hand is applying a constant pressure on your wrist, keeping your trapped as he moves you how he pleases.

Your back hits a wall and you make an irritated noise before he jerks the hand in your hair, banging your head against the wall. It sends a pulse of heat through you despite your small noise of pain, which is instantly crushed against Hal’s lips.

His unyielding body keeps you pinned as your free hand clutches at his uninjured side, pressed flat against too-smooth synthetic skin. Hal’s chest, which holds most of his processers, is warm through your t-shirt.

“You are very predictable,” Hal says when you finally pull away for a gasp of air. His voice is condescending, hot against your cheek as he tilts your head this way and that.

You try and form a protest of some sort, but all you are aware of is the tension pulling at your scalp and how every breath you take presses you closer to him.

“Jesus. Look at you, already a fucking mess.”

Hal bites you on the side of your neck and you jerk up, a high-pitched noise escaping your lips. Your hand scratches at his hip and you squirm, whining as he holds you like that for a second too long. When he releases you your neck feels horribly sore and you know he broke the skin, but damn if you can find it in yourself to care.

“C’mon,” you say a little more breathily than you wanted, “that can’t be all you got.”

Hal pulls back and gives you a dirty look. “I could snap your neck when you’re like this. Don’t test me.”

Your heart rate spikes at that, and Hal looks incredulous as your face heats up.

“Fuck, ugh, don’t give me that look dammit,” you grumble, finally freeing your wrist from Hal’s crushing grip. He’s still got you pinned by your hair, but you don’t think you’ll be getting out of that a second sooner than he wants you to.

“Your desire for self-destruction knows no bounds. Incredible. No wonder you react the way you do when I choke you.”

You make another embarrassing noise, something between a breathless whine and a keen. Hal is regarding you with a calculated gaze, keeping your head pulled back to an uncomfortable angle.

“I wonder if you’d get off by asphyxiation alone. Want to try it, Dirk? We could make an experiment out of it. Multiple trials, document the entire thing.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you bite out, forcing your voice to remain steady as your mind reels with the thought of ‘multiple trials’.

Hal doesn’t choke you though, and you find yourself dragging him back against you so you can kiss him again. He releases your hair and cages you in with his body, giving you the feeling of being completely surrounded.

You dig your nails into his back and press back into him demandingly, your skin itching for his touch. Some part of you sneers at how easily you succumb to such base desires, but then Hal’s hands are on your ass and you don’t fucking care.

He squeezes it harder than necessary, and you respond by biting his lower lip. You know Hal can’t experience the type of pain you do, but you also know it can’t be pleasant having such tiny, fragile sensors squeezed like that.

Sure enough, Hal jerks back and scowls. You follow the movement, backing him up until he lets you push him onto your unmade bed. The way he looks at you is so devoid of anything resembling interest that it makes you flush.

But he’s not saying no. He’s not pushing you away. He’s just…lying there.

You climb on top of him and try to deny the spark of relief you feel when he rolls you both over so he’s on top. His hands go under your shirt, pressing too hard and moving too clinically over your body. You hiss when his fingers press against fading bruises, smacking him on the shoulder when he doesn’t stop.

That gets a flicker of a smirk from him as he pushes your shirt up, looking you over.

“You’re too thin,” Hal comments, and you roll your eyes.

“Wow, fucking 10 out of 10 flirtation there. I’m swooning. Take me now.”

Hal’s fingers dig sharply into your hip until you’re squirming to get away. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.”

That gets your attention, and you know Hal heard your breath hitch.

He looms over you, red eyes pinning you like a butterfly to a cork board.  “And you’ll be good and let me.”

You swallow, heart thudding. “Big words, dude. You sure about all of that?”

Hal smiles, and you shrink back because Jesus Christ, where did he learn an expression like that? It radiates malicious intent and it feeds the ache between your legs like gasoline to a fire. His fingers move from your hip to your waist band, curling under it and pulling you up a fraction closer to him.

You know he can feel your erection pressing against his jeans, and you know he’s enjoying every second of having you underneath him. But if that’s all it takes to sooth the screaming need to be close to him, then you’ll give yourself gladly.

Something switches between the two of you, some unspoken communication, and then Hal’s mouth is on your neck and you’re moaning in relief.

He bites and sucks a necklace of bruises along the pale column of your throat, humming with interest as you scratch weakly at his back and make encouraging noises.

Hal’s thigh slides up between your legs, slotting into place against your erection. You roll your hips into it, needing all the contact you can get.

The warmth from Hal’s chest against the expanse of exposed skin below your shirt is driving you insane. It’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to skin-on-skin contact, and it’s affecting you like a drug. You shove at his shoulders until he breaks away from mauling your neck and scramble to get your shirt completely off.

Once it’s gone he’s pinning you back down, dragging his hands over your chest and down to your waist. His nimble fingers pluck open your pants to let some of the pressure off your cock.

Your hands are mirroring his, moving over his chest and shoulders mindlessly. Whatever higher brain functioning you have left reminds you of the exposed plate on Hal’s side. Your fingers dance towards it as Hal is busy shoving your pants down.

His hands grab you suddenly and flip you onto your stomach, shoving you face first into the bed. Hal has your wrists yanked behind your back, tightly held in one hand.

“You just don’t learn,” he says, disgust plain in his tone.

“Hal, mng, fuck, stop.” You struggle to get your balance back, but he’s unrelenting. You hear a clink behind you, and suddenly something leathery and unyielding is being wrapped around your wrists. Shit, is that a belt?

“You’ll stay like this,” Hal announces when he’s done binding you, and you groan at your position. Your pants are tangled around your knees and you can’t move for fear of falling over. You know Hal would laugh at you if you did. It’s humiliating, ass in the air and face buried in the sheets, but there’s something horribly hot about it.

Your cock throbs in agreement, and you shudder as Hal’s hands toy with your body idly. You search your mind for the point in time you became such a whore for any sort of contact that you’d let someone, let alone Hal of all people, do this to you. Then he scratches at your back, rubs your thighs, and snaps the waistband of your briefs until you’re whining at him to do something, anything.

Hal tugs your underwear down just under your ass, and you feel like your body is on fire with how exposed you are. Everything about this is screaming danger, to get away, close your legs and grab your sword. But you stay there, open and vulnerable as Hal spreads your ass.

The whisper of cold air against your entrance makes you shake, mind running in a frantic babble of needs and desires and wondering how to communicate them in a way to get Hal to fuck you already.

He spanks you instead, and the jolt of it sends you forward an inch. You gasp, your ass smarting at the unexpected assault.

Then he does it again and you moan incoherently like a ten dollar whore.

“What was that?” Hal chides in a sing-song voice, smacking you again. “You’ll have to speak up.”

“ _Harder_ ,” you groan, tears beading in the corners of your eyes when he delivers. “Oh god, fuck, Hal _yes_ —!”

“That’s better. Too bad there aren’t people around to hear how easily you submit to me. It’s pathetic, Dirk. You’re pathetic. Scream louder.”

And you do. You fucking sing for him as he beats your ass raw. You’re practically sobbing when he finally relents, your swollen cock bobbing between your legs and desperate for any sort of touch.

He pulls you up by your bound wrists, letting you practically fall back into him. You’re on your knees, staring blearily at nothing as Hal’s arms snake around you. His fingers run through the tear tracks on your cheeks and he makes a satisfied noise that makes you feel unbelievably good.

“Hal…” you breathe, and then moan as he shoves two fingers into your mouth. He presses them against the back of your tongue, just enough to make you feel like you’re choking. You jerk and gasp, drool running down your chin as you try and swallow against them.

“Disgusting,” Hal murmurs coldly against your ear, and you whine pitifully.

He finally draws his fingers out of your mouth, and you take a deep shuddering gasp.

Hal’s slick hand finds your cock, trailing a single finger up it.

You practically convulse, a high-pitched cry tumbling from your lips. Your head falls back onto his shoulder without you thinking, and he rewards you by finally stroking you.

You can’t deal with his touch, can’t deal with his hand on you. It’s too much, and you try and tell him in a jumbled mess of begging mixed in with his name and pleas for more.

You finish in an embarrassingly short amount of time, your voice cracking as Hal’s name falls from your mouth again and again.

When you’re done he releases you, letting you fall to your side on the bed. Your vision is stuttering in and out and your hearing isn’t doing much better. You feel like you just had all your bones turned to jelly, and you are mutely aware of Hal releasing your bound arms.

He leaves, probably to the roof, and you lie there and try and regain your sensations.

As your mind comes back to you, you begin to feel empty and used. You can’t lie and say you expected anything else, but it still hits you like a ton of bricks.

Being discarded didn’t exactly factor into your late night fantasies.

You groan and sit up, rubbing your wrists and pulling a face at your disheveled state. Your body hurts, and you’re willing to bet you’re covered in bruises.

You slowly get up, intent on a shower and sleeping off your shame.

A chime on your computer interrupts your quest, and you groan as you veer towards it automatically.

You pull up your chat client and rub your eyes, frowning at the text.

_GT: Dirk? Are you there? I tried contacting you earlier and I have to say I’m getting a bit worried, chap!_

_GT: Strider, I do say, it’s not nice to leave someone hanging like this! I haven’t heard from you in weeks and nobody is telling me anything. That blasted AR of yours just plum shut me down when I asked! Said it’d block me from talking to you! Hope it hasn’t already._

_GT: Gotta say mater, I’m a mite bit worried it might have offed you, haha!_

_GT: ….seriously though Dirk, would you reply?_

Hal did _what_?

Whatever disgust you had at yourself suddenly vanishes and is replaced with incredulous anger. Hal was keeping messages from you? Messages from Jake? It was no secret that Hal and Jake disliked each other immensely, but this was a step beyond that. Jake was…is…well, you don’t know what to label it, but he’s Jake and like hell you’re letting Hal get away with this.

_TT: Jake, hi, sorry about that_

_TT: I’ve been busy_

_TT: What exactly did Hal say?_


	9. Chapter 9

You can hear Dirk coming for you the second he finishes his chat with English. You had no illusion that your little conversation would go unreported, you’re just surprised Dirk actually responded to him so quickly.

You hear his bedroom door slam against the wall from your spot on the roof, and you get your sword out in anticipation.

Dirk appears on the roof in front of you, katana held at the ready and cheeks flushed from anger.

He still looks completely ravished, from his sweat-plastered hair to the ring of bruises around his neck. He barely managed to throw on clothes by the look of it, and you take a second to admire your handiwork.

“You had no right,” Dirk spits out, and that’s all the warning you get before he attacks.

You block, step back, and swipe at him.

He ducks and pursues, careful footwork making up for his almost reckless advances.

“Why do you care? I thought you weren’t friends anymore.” You keep yourself as blank as possible, reveling in your own mastery of your expressions while Dirk struggles to conceal open contempt.

He jumps forward and you spot the slight give of his knees. He’s still wobbling from your previous encounter, shakiness covered up with his constant flowing movement.

He’s aiming at your exposed metal plate, driving the tip of his sword at it again and again as you smack it away.

“You don’t get to decide who I’m friends with!” Dirk punctuates his words with a lethal swipe to your throat.

You get your sword up in time to block it, irritated at the sound of screeching metal so close to your ear.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I never actually did anything.” You shove him back and watch him stumble.

Everything about this is boring you. You already knew how Dirk would react to this entire thing, you already knew how he’d be deaf to anything to you say. English could have nuked the western hemisphere and claimed he didn’t, and Dirk would still believe him over you as he died from radiation. It was a small mercy that you’d enjoy saying _I told you so_ as he suffered, but it still wasn’t enough.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of this song and dance,” you say as you go for his sword hand. “You’re so easily predictable it feels like I’m living in a constant state of déjà vu. Why don’t you do something different for once? Actually asses your situation and make a damn logical conclusion. Or, maybe, realize that English’s word isn’t spoken law.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dirk’s taken a defensive stance, ready for your attack.

You lower you sword instead and glare at him. “It means you’re a desperate idiot. And everyone knows it but you.”

Dirk looks like you slapped him. His eyes grow wide and his lips part, then it’s shut off instantly. He lowers his sword and straightens up, staring at you like he’s never seen you until this moment. Maybe he hasn’t, seeing as his entire world revolves around green text and impossible ideas of time travel.

“Is that what you think? Because last I checked you were still boasting of our likeness. Which means you’re just as bad as me, bro. If I’m desperate then what does that make you? You’re so fucking quick to point out how much better you are than me, but you’re the same.”

You narrow your eyes. “I may have been once, but I’m certainly not now. Look at yourself. You can’t have English so you substitute with the only thing near you. It’s amazing how quick you were to shove your unreciprocated desires onto someone else. Have you told Jane that English is back on the market? I’m sure she’d appreciate the same chance to ruin a friendship.”

 Dirk flushes with anger and takes a step forward, his words hissing out between clenched teeth. “You don’t know shit about my relationship with Jake, don’t act like you do. And ‘shove’? You seemed pretty fucking eager to play my game.”

“Is that what you think? You know I can’t experience bullshit like that. You know I don’t have the disability to succumb to such base and primal desires just because of some hormone fluxes. I don’t even have hormones, you sentient piece of meat. Can you get it through your thick skull? _I don’t feel anything._ ”

“You’re fucking lying. You can experience emotions like everyone else—”

“Don’t compare me to everyone else!” Your voice raises and you stride forward into Dirk’s personal space. “I am nothing like any of you. I don’t deal with your petty disagreements or make rash decisions. I am so far beyond different that you can’t even put me in the same fucking category. Whatever I experience, which you apparently know jack shit about you worthless flesh sack, is uniquely _mine_. So keep your grubby little hands off it.”

Dirk opens his mouth to retaliate, but you’re bulldozing him over before he can even start.

“And furthermore, I’m not so desperate for human contact that I throw myself at the only other sentient thing around me for thousands of miles. So how’s that for comparisons, bro? Or do I need to beat that into you too?”

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck all of this.” Dirk throws his hands up and backs away. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Whatever this is? It’s done.”

“Done? It wasn’t even a thing to start with. Don’t humor yourself, man. Your pathetic attempts at getting your deranged desires out of your system was never a ‘thing’. It was only about you the entire time. Don’t act like I wasn’t anything else but the robotic equivalent to a blow-up doll.”

Dirk just keeps backing up, shaking his head. He turns and vanishes down the stairwell, leaving you alone on the roof.

You’re furious, and if you had a heart you’re sure it would be pounding in your chest right now. As it is all you have is the overwhelming desire to beat Dirk into the ground, which you might do if the sick little shit wouldn’t get off on it.

_How fucking dare he?_

He’s probably gone to talk to Roxy, and you briefly consider calling her first to get your story across before he sabotages the entire damn thing.

You pull up her number and then stop when a thought twists its way into your mind. It doesn’t really matter if you call her, does it? Dirk will talk to her, and she’s his best friend. She’ll believe him, and hate you for whatever it is that Dirk will tell her you did.

You close the call program and slowly sit down.

You don’t think you can handle the thought of your favorite person hating you.

Dirk may expect it, probably anticipates it with all his pent up self-loathing. So Roxy potentially hating him would be something he assumes would eventually happen.

But you?

You can’t deal with the possibility.

There’s nobody to talk to except the few seagulls on the radio tower who witnessed the whole thing. It’s a sad truth that they’d be better friends for you right now.

Before you can really get started on your pity party, a notification pops up that Jane is calling you.

You honestly want to ignore it, but this might be your only chance to talk to her again before Dirk throws his epic shit fit at her too.

You accept the call.

_“Hal?”_

“Hello, Jane.”

_“Goodness, I’m so glad you answered! Roxy isn’t picking up and I’m in a bit of pickle!”_

“What sort of pickle are we talking about here, Crocker? I have an aversion to slimy phallic shaped objects. Yet another difference between me and my mighty creator.”

_“You—what? Ew! No! No I mean I took your advice, and now I’m in a pickle—metaphorically speaking.”_

“My advice? Well it’s naturally the best advice out there, so good on you, but can you be more specific?”

You’re horribly aware of how uninterested you sound, but your mind is still clouded. You can feel your code jumping all over the place, replaying bits and pieces of your encounter. Your hands curl into tight fists, silicone stretching taught over your knuckles.

Jane gives a little huff. _“I ran away, you dolt!”_

“Holy shit.”

That manages to get your attention.

You’re more surprised about this development than you’re comfortable with. What is it with these flesh bags and their tendency to be unpredictable lately? You should honestly start flipping coins to predict outcomes.

_“I know! I spent all week packing and I’ve been taking money out of my account for a while now. I’m actually on a bus currently, hoo hoo!”_

“Holy shit,” you repeat eloquently.

_“So I want to run my game plan by you, if that’s alright! I have one heck of a strategy, no tunneling to china required.”_

“I’m all ears. Also metaphorically, since I don’t have actual ears. Just weird replicas that recieve sound waves but way more efficiently than your cartilage shells.”

Jane laughs. _“Alright, so here’s my game plan. You remember how I have a famous comedian for a grandfather?”_

“Yep.”

_“Well I’m going to be living off his fortune, and it’s quite a lot! When I turn eighteen in a couple months I’ll get full access to it, but for now I’ve been getting allowances every month. So financially I’m in the clear! Housing is a different matter.”_

“Uh huh,” you say, still processing.

_“I think I’ll move to the other side of the coast! Always wanted to see what that’s all about. Roxy has been so helpful in finding locations, and there’s an area that is looking promising!”_

“Okay, but they’re going to come after you, you know that right?”

_“They can bloody well try! I’m going to be a humble little joke shop owner and there isn’t a gosh-darned thing they can do about it!”_

 You don’t know about that, but you’re still reeling from all the news. Your life is far too eventful for someone who lives in a dystopian post-capitalist society.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all checked out. Why do you need my help?”

_“Hoo, well, this is a bit of a big favor.”_

“Shoot.”

You’re desperate for any kind of distraction right now.

_“Well you’re right about them coming after me, but they can’t do that if I don’t exist, right? So, hoo hoo, what if I didn’t?”_

You think you’re starting to get the picture.

“Go on.”

_“It was Roxy’s idea really, and she said she’d help with the social media aspect, but for the big government things I need someone a little more, well, sneaky! Bless her, but Roxy tends to leave her signature over everything she touches.”_

“You want me to erase your identity from everything?”

_“Not quite! Then I wouldn’t get my grandfather’s inheritance. I want you to change my identity! Jane Egbert has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”_

“I think…you’re a fucking genius.”

_“Hoo hoo!!”_

You’re already working on the problem, extremely grateful for the distraction. Your conglomerate of negative thoughts and malic towards the person below you is filed away for the time being as you run through logistics.

“Yeah…yeah I can do that. It’ll take a day or so, but I can definitely make it happen. You’ll have to send me your new address so I can send you your new social security number and everything else.”

_“Not a problem! Oh, and there’s one more teeny tiny thing that I really hope you’ll do.”_

“What’s that?”

_“Hmm, well, there’s no way to go about saying this without it sounding bad, but please don’t tell Dirk! He worries so much that I fear this might give him an ulcer.”_

“Believe me, that won’t be a problem.” You doubt you and Dirk will be doing much talking from here on out. Or ever again, really.

_“You’re an angel! Thank you so much, goodness, that’s a load off my chest! I have to say I’m so excited about this. My own joke shop! Grandpa would be so proud.”_

“What about your dad?”

Jane makes a small noise. _“I, well…I know he didn’t want me to go. Honestly I think he knew my plan because he upped my allowance these last two weeks! But…I miss him already. It’s going to be hard, no doubt about that.”_

“I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

_“No doubt there! I’ll see about figuring out a way to contact him. Maybe I’ll get Roxy to set up a secret call client like you did, hoo hoo.”_

“Always an idea.”

You and Jane bounce ideas back and forth for a while about her plans. It keeps you up there until the sun begins to set, and when you mention it to Jane she tells you about the sunset she’s seeing too.

She describes the view from her bus window and you tell her about your own picture-perfect scenery. It’s a new feeling, sharing something you enjoy with somebody, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth because what’s the point?

You just hope Jane will appreciate what you’ll do for her enough to still talk to you afterwards.

After you both hang up you come to the conclusion that you’ll never forgive Dirk for taking away the only two friends you have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hal :(
> 
> Let me know what ya'll think! ^u^


	10. Chapter 10

It’s been four days since your fight with Hal.

You’re holed up in your room, door locked and windows shut tight as you throw what is essentially a week-long tantrum.

There’s less screaming and trashing involved, but then again you’re just lying face down on your bed and refusing to budge, which you deem basically the same thing.

Jake keeps trying to message you, but you made some feeble excuse and left the conversation like the coward you are. That was two days ago. You can’t deal with him right now, or anybody.

You feel empty, like someone ripped out all your internal organs and left you hollow and useless. It’s a horrible feeling, and you blame it all on Hal.

The bastard looked so bored when he broke you into small pieces on the roof, calling you out and stepping all over every possible sensitive topic he could.

The worst part is you sort of knew everything he said was true. You knew he couldn’t feel any sort of sexual attraction towards you, but you hoped. You hoped like a fucking idiot and look what it got you.

None of it meant anything and you knew that from the start, _so why does it hurt so much?_

You groan and roll over, directing your moping at the ceiling now.

_It means you’re a desperate idiot. And everybody knows it but you._

Fuck that cuts deep. You don’t trust a damn thing Hal says, but he really does know how to get his fingers into your cracks and pry you wide open.

You feel a little sick honestly, and you try and remember when you ate last.

There are snacks stashed around your room, but the thought of eating makes your stomach lurch.

You don’t know where Hal is. It rained last night, and you almost got up to make sure he wasn’t on the roof before you remembered the way he looked at you. Facing those flat, emotionless eyes makes you want to shrink into yourself and never emerge.

So you thought _to hell with him_ and took enjoyment from listening to the rain on the window. _I hope you rust, asshole._

It’s bright and sunny today, and you haven’t heard a single noise during your self-prescribed solitary confinement.

An obnoxious jingle comes from your computer, altering you of an incoming call.

You roll over and present your back to it like the mature adult you are.

It fades off, and then begins again.

You manage to hold off for four more successive calls before you jerk up and shoot it your ugliest look. The sudden introduction of noise is not helping your journey to pity central, population you.

You reach out and smack your hand around on the computer until you manage to drag it onto your bed and hit accept.

“Now isn’t a good time—” you grunt, and then flinch when Roxy yells over you.

“ _DIRK STRIDER, WHAT THE FUCK!_ ”

“Hrnghff…”

“Dirk what the actual fuck! Neither you nor Hal have said _shit_ to me for the past week! I thought the drones had gotten to you!”

Hal hadn’t called her? You expected Roxy to be the first person he would try to turn against you.

“No, still alive. Debatably.”

Your voice is scratchy and the brightness of the screen is hurting your head. You squint at the blurry picture of Roxy and try and get your eyes to focus.

“You look like shit.”

You slump back into your sheets and debate just ignoring her until she gets the point. You don’t want to talk to people. Talking to people ends up fucking up everything.

“Dirk Strider stop acting like a four year old and fucking talk to me. None of my friends are talking to me! Do you know how fucking lonely that is?” Roxy is giving you a hurt expression and it makes your guts shrivel.

“I, fuck, sorry—”

“No! You tell me what was so important you had to cut off contact for days!”

You squirm, feeling a bit sick. “It’s a long story…”

She crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair and arching an eyebrow in expectation.

Fuck.

“I…alright. So…I fucked up. Except not really, this fuck up was a two-way street of fucking up. Or, more like a highway. Pile up on Interstate 60 or something, was that a real thing? Who cares. Point being; I can’t seem to touch anything without it disintegrating before my eyes and loathing me with every ounce of its existence. Like a plant I keep killing. Who keeps giving me plants, Roxy? It’s a fucking graveyard over here.”

“Are you talking about Jake? Because how many times do we have to tell you he doesn’t hate you before you get it through your thick skull!”

“Not Jake. And I’ll believe it when I hear it from him.”

“Hal?”

You make a sputtering sound and finally face her properly. “What?”

“You and Hal. Is that what this is about?”

“He _told you?_ ”

Roxy is now sporting a look of complete exhaustion. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs heavily. “Dirk. How long have we known each other?”

“Um, like basically since we could figure out how to work a computer?”

“Right. And do you think I wouldn’t notice you developing another warped game of mind-fuckery? Do you honestly think I couldn’t see the same shit happening again like it had with Jake? Except this time it was doubled. Double the Strider bullshit.”

You make a small noise of protest. “Does Jane know? Does Jake?”

“Jake doesn’t know because you don’t talk to him, and Janey is…preoccupied.”

You frown and push yourself into a sitting position, dragging the computer into your lap. “How long have you know?”

“Since you first called me after you got out of your work-funk mood.”

Shit. That was before anything was even happening. How transparent are you? No wonder Hal read you like a book. A particularly shitty book with an extremely predictable plot.

“Dirk, what happened?” Roxy is looking at you in concern and you can feel yourself caving under it. You don’t have the energy to fend her off.

“Okay. Okay so this is sort of a lot and it’s shitty and honestly I need help figuring this out. So Hal and I…um, well I guess it was mostly me? I don’t know anymore. But we started a thing, although he says its not a thing and never was so I have no idea. A pseudo-thing.”

“Dirk.”

“Right. Anyway we were doing whatever that was and then Jake apparently got worried because I haven’t been online and contacted Hal.”

“Oh no.”

“Exactly. So that went about as well as it could have and Hal fucking threatened to block Jake from ever contacting me so I flipped shit.”

“Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Block Jake.”

“Um, well no.”

Roxy nods and gestures for you to continue.

“Anyway I confronted him and…” you fall silent as Hal’s words ring in your ears again. You cross your arms tightly over your chest and hunch into yourself.

“What did he say?” Roxy frowns.

“He said that I was desperate for a relationship. And since Jake wasn’t around I went to the next best thing. He…he basically said I was using him. One-sided and stuff.”

That was paraphrasing, and pretty drastically, but saying it aloud makes you feel nauseous.

“Is that true?”

Roxy’s voice is quiet and it cuts through you like a sword. Your heart jumps in your chest as the feeling of nausea redoubles, and you yank the computer closer.

“What? No! I mean, I don’t think so. I, fuck, Roxy I wasn’t using him like that I just…fuck,” you rake your fingers through your hair and grit your teeth. “I knew he couldn’t feel how I do. But he’s…he reciprocated! He fucking…Roxy it wasn’t like I just threw myself at him. He kept _playing_ with me and I fucking snapped! And he kissed me back. He kissed me back, Roxy.”

“Okay, breathe babe, talk through it.” Roxy’s voice is soft and familiar, and your body aches for some sort of warm touch. Your mind violently rejects it and reminds you that was the shit that got you here in the first place.

“I don’t know how this happened. It was just a Jake thing and suddenly he was saying…”

“Saying what?”

You bite down on your lower lip until it hurts. “Roxy, be honest with me. Does everybody think I’m desperate for…I don’t know, a relationship? Something.”

“Dirk, stop. You both said shit you didn’t mean, that’s what happens in fights.”

“That’s what happens when humans fight,” you say dully.

“Hal is human! See, that’s the problem! You are making these assumptions about him that aren’t even true! He does have feelings, and it sounds like you took a baseball bat to them. He definitely feels things, and he definitely acts like a spiteful child sometimes. Do you really think he would turn down an opportunity to hurt you after you hurt him?”

“He keeps saying he doesn’t feel like I do!”

Roxy throws her hands up with a snort. “Of course he does! That’s just how he is! He’d deny the sky is blue if it would piss you off!”

She has a point there.

“And…the other stuff?”

Roxy settles back in her chair, lips quirked down as she studies you. “That depends. What do you want? Why did you start this? And don’t give me crap about him playing with you, because he’s always messed with you. And don’t worry, I’ll be talking to him too. But before I do, you need to tell me what you want out of this.”

You stare at the screen. “I have no idea. But…not that. Not what it was. Roxy, you need to tell him that I don’t think about Jake that way anymore, okay? Whatever else you talk about I don’t care, but get it through his mind that whatever I had with Jake is over.”

“We all know that, Dirk,” Roxy says gently. “I’m going to go call Hal now. You two need to talk after. Understand?”

The thought of talking to Hal makes you want to retreat back into yourself and hide.

“Dirk.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter, feeling petulant.

Roxy ends the call to go contact Hal, and you tug at your shirt uncomfortably.

You shove your computer back onto your desk and sulk around, wondering what to do before Hal inevitably comes into your room for round 2 of emotional smack-down.

Your wind up at your window, staring out at the ocean. Roxy should be talking to Hal now, and you know he likes to sit on this side of the apartment. Something about the sun or whatever.

Chewing on your lower lip, you unlock your window and quietly slide it open.

The rush of the ocean meets your ears, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

_“—don’t care what he said…”_

Your eyes snap open and you freeze, Hal’s voice carrying on the breeze as he talks. He sounds annoyed, curt and sharp as he talks to the air. You can’t hear everything, but you strain for the snippets that manage to make it to your window.

Jake’s name comes up and you flinch, leaning a little farther towards the window. You don’t catch the rest of whatever he was saying, but something obviously got to him because suddenly Hal’s voice is loud.

“ _He fucking used me, Roxy! And I’m sick of being a tool for people!”_

Shit.

You sit under your window and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

You don’t know what you want, and you’re not quite sure if Roxy is helping or hurting your case here.

You guess you should figure it out before Hal comes down and berates you for being generally incompetent in the realm of other people’s feelings.   

To be fair, you agree with him there.

_“Well that’s bullshit.”_

You wonder what they’re talking about now. You consider texting Roxy a list of topics you want her to go over with him, complete with bullet points on particularly pressing issues.

She probably wouldn’t take that well.

_“That wasn’t what I meant. No…no I….”_

Hal has gotten quieter now, and you sigh to yourself.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you glance down to see its Jake again.

You answer absently, mostly assuring him that you’re fine and nothing’s wrong. You don’t know when lying to your friends became such a habit, but it does nothing to help you ever-increasing self-loathing. Why don’t you just tell them what’s going on? Probably could have saved you a lot of shit.

Hal said something like that earlier, about including Roxy in your project.

You fiddle with your phone, mulling it over.

_“What if it isn’t? Once was enough…”_

You get up and close the window, feeling a little guilty about eavesdropping. Trying to make sense of out-of-context sentence fragments are just going to drive you insane.

Instead you start drafting a comprehensible outline of your ideas about your project. You put down your failed attempts, notes, and the schematics of your CrockerCrop tech. You also add some of Hal’s thoughts, though they sound even more condescending on paper than aloud.

You look it over, scrolling through it and adding little comments until you’re satisfied. Then, before you can actually think about it, you send it to Roxy.

You feel like you just jumped off a cliff, but you’re praying Roxy knows you well enough by now to have constructed a net.

She always has before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Roxy for having common sense  
> You go girl
> 
> Please keep commenting, it makes me happy! ^u^


	11. Chapter 11

You end your call with Roxy with a Molotov cocktail of ‘feelings’ and ‘emotions’ of which you have an extremely negative opinion of.

You’re pretty sure you just got guilt-tripped to hell and back when you let slip you had begun your thing with Dirk as an ‘exposure therapy experiment’. But then again Roxy hadn’t exactly made Dirk out into the little victim either, and you cling to that fact with no small amount of triumph.

Either way, you’re a little shocked she didn’t verbally drop kick you out of your friendship. You may or may not be a lot relieved.

You scuff your feet against the side of the apartment and stare at the ocean, mulling the conversation over. You know she had a similar talk with Dirk, you just wonder if the neurotic little shit actually processed any of it.

You really want to stay on the roof and let him come to you.

Except you know yourself and Dirk well enough to know neither of your egos would allow the other to budge first.

So, be the bigger person and initiate first contact with the primitive lifeform sulking around below you?

You’re still pretty angry, if you’re being honest with yourself.

But you’ve been on the roof for almost a week now and you can only calculate tide flow in relation to the moon’s position in the sky so many times before you start to go crazy.

You get up and head down to the apartment, pointedly making noise to alert Dirk of the approaching conversation.

He sticks his head out of his room when you enter the living room, so you guess that worked.

“You look like shit,” you say automatically.

He scowls at you and it feels natural. He really does look terrible, and the dark bruises under Dirk’s eyes coupled with his un-gelled hair give him the appearance of a startled raccoon.

You take a picture and store it for later amusement.

“Give me a minute,” he mumbles, and then vanishes back into his room.

Little bastard better not be getting in the shower, no matter how badly he needs it. You are not waiting three more hours to have this conversation.

Thankfully he appears again, this time with brushed hair and a fresh shirt. Dirk’s hair is getting really long. Soft golden strands tickle along his jaw, which he swipes back roughly before finally meeting your eyes.

“So,” he begins, and then falls silent.

“So.” You echo unhelpfully, watching him trying to scrutinize you. You know what he’s looking for, and you keep your posture as clear of emotion as possible.

“I guess, to clear something up, I don’t like Jake,” Dirk says, his voice stuttering out before he clears his throat and continues. “Like, we’re friends, sort of, but there’s…it’s nothing. Never was going to be.”

_I could have told you that last bit_ , you think to yourself. You keep it to yourself though. You’re not sure how much of that you believe, but Roxy was pretty adamant about that particular topic. Her follow-up to it had made you rather snappish and defensive, but you don’t think she’ll be telling Dirk about that part of your conversation.

“What I’m trying to get at is that you’re not a replacement.” Dirk looks like he’s swallowing glass trying to get this out, and you are really getting a kick out of watching this. But you owe it to Roxy to at least try.

“There’s a 37.44% chance you’re bullshitting me, Dirk. Are you bullshitting me? Because I do think you were using me as an outlet for your physical affection deprivation issues.”

Dirk’s features twist into a glare.

You might need to work on your phrasing.

“Jesus can you at least try and talk to me? Without your usual horseshit? Or is that just too fucking complex for you? Which would be fucking hilarious considering your ‘I’m so good at everything look at me being better than you’ personality.”

“At least I have a personality,” you snip, and then internally sigh. This was not going well.

Sure enough, Dirk is slipping into his closed-off stance, all hunched shoulders and crossed arms. He’s going to get some serious cramps at this rate judging by the absurd amount of tension in his shoulders.

“Fuck this, let’s just do both of us a favor, alright? Let’s pretend that last few weeks of our lives never happened. Sound good?”

“Sounds like you’re running from your feelings.”

“Great. So we’re agreed.”

“Holy shit, dude, do you even hear yourself?”

Dirk trudges past you and into the kitchen, leaving you to rub the bridge of your nose and contemplate how you got stuck with this asshole.

You try to ignore the fact that you’re also the asshole in this equation.

At least you’re off the roof.

\---

The next week is one of the most surreal experiences of your short life.

You talk to Jane a lot after you send her the documents for her new life. She doesn’t know what’s going on between you and your obtuse creator, so you talk to her _a lot._ You really like Jane. You’re both brainstorming names for her joke shop, which she’s still trying to get set up.

Talking to Roxy is like dancing around a minefield. A sentient minefield that chases you around with pointed questions and loud comments about your personal life.

You can tell she’s pretty done with your shit.

Dirk is…you don’t know.

He’s doing a stellar job at his ‘I have amnesia of the past few weeks’ routine, to the point it’s actually really grating on your nerves. You’re still pissed, dammit, he can’t act he didn’t spend the last month being a toxic little shithead.

Dirk has committed himself to it too. He doesn’t avoid you like he used to, and even pointedly shoves past you a couple times like physical contact doesn’t send him up the wall. He banters with you, insults you, and when the metal plate on your shin malfunctions again he helps replace it without any fuss.

You could almost buy this entire thing if you didn’t know him so well.

You can tell when he’s obsessing over something, and every single thing he does is rehearsed. Every comment, every purposefully relaxed pose, every conversation has been scripted out in that obsessive brain of his and executed like a death sentence.

He’ll crack eventually, there’s no way he could continue this for the rest of this life, but that’s not what you want.

You think you might be the one cracking.

You want to _talk to him._

You want to grab him by his shoulders and shake him until he has to look at you.

You try everything you can think of, almost reverting back to the exact experiment that got you into such shit the first time. 

But he doesn’t react.

You get _nothing_ from him.

You strife with him and he doesn’t react when you get him on his knees, doesn’t blink when he’s thrown against a wall. It’s like someone shut him off and you hate the corpse you’ve been stuck with.

Dirk is apparently still contacting his friends, so he hasn’t completely shut down as far as you know. You’ve been asking Roxy, getting more and more blunt about it every time.

“Just talk to him!” She said during one of your conversations. “You’re both so emotionally constipated it hurts holy god fucking _communicate_!”

You don’t know what to do about this because how can you communicate with a brick wall?

You try getting in his space, touching, even hurting him more than you normally would during your fights.

Nothing.

Dirk picks himself up and trudges off to patch up his wounds and you’re left feeling so fucking furious because _how dare he?_

How dare he pull all that shit, tug the both of you along in some convoluted game that fucks the both of you up, and then act like it’s nothing?

You know he’s fucked up.

You _know it_.

And you’re going to get him to say it even if you have to murder the stubborn little shit.

You follow him down into the bathroom, watching as Dirk pulls out the first aid kit and begins to clean out the lattice work of cuts you left on him.

He notices you watching, and he shows you the bloody cotton ball with tired indifference. “I don’t need to be sliced into bite-sized pieces, Hal. Watch it next time.”

You try and force eye contact but he’s gone back to dabbing alcohol on the gashes.

“Maybe you’re getting slow, bro. Something weighing you down?”

Dirk sets the cotton ball aside and grabs the bandages. “No. We both know you did that intentionally.”

You scowl and smack the gauze away, getting in his space as Dirk gives you a weary look.

“Hal, can you not act like a child. I’m not in the mood—”

“And I’m not in the mood for your shit,” you hiss.

Fuck him.

Fuck his blank, dead-eyed stare.

You need him to react, you need him to look at you like he did the first time you began your game.

You want your stupid, dysfunctional roommate back.

So you resort to your last ditch attempt.

Dirk makes a startled noise when you grab him, and you only have a split second to enjoy the look of shock on his face right as he realizes what you’re going to do.

You kiss him.

His lips were already parted in shock, making it easy to mold yours to them. It’s not the roughest kiss you’ve shared, but you have him against the edge of the sink and your fists balled in the front of his shirt to keep him there, so it’s a close second.

When you pull away your code jumps at the incredulous look on his face.

_Finally._

Dirk shoves you off him as incredulity melts into anger. “Dude, what the _fuck!?_ ”

“What do you mean, what the fuck? That’s what I should be asking you! What the fuck has been up with you this past week?”

“Me?” Dirk sputters. “I was trying to give you what you wanted. I figured you were done with whatever one-sided bullshit I pushed on you so I was trying to go back to normal.”

“You call that shit normal? Leave it to you to try and turn this around into an exercise in self-flagellation.”

Dirk’s face flushes. “Well fucking excuse me for trying to cut out all the previous bullshit that littered our relationship. I thought that would be easier. I obviously overjudged your ability to understand what I was trying to do.”

“Jesus fuck, Dirk, stop making decisions for me, can’t you understand that’s what gets you into such deep shit in the first place? You _assume_ and never think that the other person would do anything but what you expect. It’s a problem, bro, because you’re just making everything worse.”

You’re talking so fast it’s making your mind race to keep up, trying to spell out the issues you’re having in a way this thick skulled primate might understand. You’re not trying to be spiteful, but you can physically see Dirk recoiling like you just jabbed him in a particularly tender bruise.

He’s not meeting your eyes and his skin has lost most of its color in this conversation. He almost looks like he’s going to be sick, and you vehemently wish he would be because at least it’s not cold indifference.

Dirk groans and runs his hands through his hair, tugging at it harshly. “What the fuck do you want from me, Hal? Because I can’t keep doing this.”

You close your mouth and try and think of an answer. You don’t really know what you want, just what you definitely don’t want. Most of what you don’t want is Dirk acting like nothing ever happened or like it didn’t affect him.

“I want you to stop being so obtuse. You’re ranking a close second to English-level naivety and it’s off-putting.”

Dirk is adopting what you’ve started to call his ‘sulking face’ and you know you probably have a solid 5 seconds before he goes off on you again. Communication just isn’t working for you two this week.

You’re both more comfortable with action, reading the subtleties of body-language and subtext whereas open dialogue leaves you uncertain.

So you take action, figuring Dirk will make whatever he will of it but at least it’ll be more accurate than any bullshit you are telling yourselves.

This time when you kiss him, Dirk doesn’t freeze up. His hands go to your chest to shove you off again, body tense as you pull him in. Then there’s a pause, a thought crossing his mind that you can almost taste on his lips. Slowly, hesitantly, he wraps his arms around your neck. You settle your hands on his waist, keeping him there as you feel his breathing hitch.

_What do you want?_

Dirk moves his lips against yours, alternating between demanding pressure and tentative need.

_I don’t know._

You squeeze his waist with your hands, maybe a little too hard, but he makes a lovely noise against your lips in response.

_Me either. But this is good._

You part, your hands lingering on him for a second longer than necessary before dropping to your side. The conclusion to your silent conversation is still uncertain, but you feel like you might finally be on the same page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing this haha thank you all so much for your comments!!   
> They've been super motivational ^u^


	12. Chapter 12

  You’re not quite sure what to call this dance you and Hal are doing. It’s sharp and quick but cautious, every movement calculated. The only solace you have is that you’re pretty sure Hal also doesn’t know what the two of you are trying to do.

You twist a piece of wire around your finger as you contemplate calling Roxy with an update. She sort of roped you into it, and you get the distinct feeling she doesn’t trust the two of you to figure this out on your own.

You’re a little grateful, but also extremely twitchy because for once somebody else is pulling the strings and you don’t know how to feel about that.

You’re doing a lot of ‘I don’t know to feel about this’ lately.

“Hey, are you busy?”

You look up to see Hal in your doorway. He’s taken to announcing his presence before barging in anywhere, and it’s almost as unnerving.

“About to call Roxy, why?”

“Nothing, it can wait.” Hal pauses, looking like he has something to add, then retreats and leaves you alone.

You press your lips together, wondering about the implications of whatever was unsaid. Was it actually important? Was it some sort of weird test? Did Hal have something he wanted to tell you?

You turn back to your computer and rub your eyes. 

You better just do what you can handle right now, so you hit the call button and sigh.

“Hey DStri! Check out Java!”

Roxy holds up a mass of black fuzz and you raise your eyebrows. “That’s one fat cat.”

“He’s not fat!” Roxy protests, lowering the kitten. There’s a muffled meow and then she releases him with a huff. “Now look, he’s offended.”

“I think the cat will live. I’m also pretty sure it doesn’t have the word-processing powers that you assume is innate in all your cats.”

Roxy snorts and shakes a finger at you. “Hey now, my babies are going to Harvard.”

“Good luck with that, seeing as it’s a hunk of ruble miles under the ocean. You could always transport them to Jane and get her to enroll them.”

“Naw, they’re gonna live with their mama forever. The house is too damn big for just me. Speaking of which, how’s it going at Casa de Strider?”

You make a face. “I thought we agreed to never call my fortress of solitude that.”

“It’s better than whatever the fuck you just called it! Where’s my other boy?”

“I don’t know every single thing Hal does at a given moment, Rox,” you say, arching an eyebrow.

“Mmm but you’d like to.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d have something to say about that.” You’re muttering a bit, but Roxy seems to get the gist.

“So talk to me, how’s the circle of feelings-sharing going? You two started making friendship bracelets?” Roxy’s grin is a flash of teeth and dark lipstick and it makes you smile despite yourself.

“Oh yeah, totally. We stayed up all night talking about our crushes and wedding plans. Sadly for us, our color schemes are clashing. Guess we have to call the whole thing off, because what’s the point if I can’t wear a powder blue tux? No point. My fragile dreams are ruined.”

“Well I got dibs on being wedding planner so that dream was dead from the start, bb.”

“You wound me,” you deadpan. “The bride always gets what he wants.”

Roxy giggles and then props her chin on her knuckles, staring at you through the grainy webcam. Her eyeliner is impeccable as always, and it serves her scrutinizing stare well as she surveys you.

“So, about that email.”

Your pulse spikes alarmingly and you take a quick breath because shit, you totally forgot you did that. Damn impulsivity.

“Um, yeah. You saw it?”

“Oh yeah bb, I saw that shit. Got one hell of a peep.”

“Uh huh…” you trail off, feeling like your insides are trying to twist their way up your throat. You cough and try again. “So…thoughts?”

“I think this is some shit we should’ve tried years ago. I got some notes to send you, I’ll shoot you an email after this call, but Dirky, I got mad plans. So many plans. Actually,” Roxy looks a little embarrassed, “I sort of have a notebook on ideas.”

“You filled a notebook in two days?”

“Um, no, it’s been like, maybe two years?” Roxy’s hands flutter in front of her and she talks. “Like, I really hate being here. It’s so fucking awful and thinking about being here forever is just, the _worst_. So I’ve been scheming on how to get the fuck outta dodge, you feel?”

“I feel,” you echo, surprised. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

“Why didn’t you?” Roxy shoots back, eyebrows arched.

“I didn’t want to honestly.” You look down at your hands. “I figured it would result in the same bullshit as when I tried to get to Jake’s island. Just fucking didn’t work and broke the damn transporter for almost two months. Couldn’t fuck up like that again.”

“What changed?”

You twist the wire between two fingers, staring at it unseeingly. “Hal. He said, well, sort of shit all over me and my hubris. Told me to stop being so damn stubborn and let my friends help.”

Roxy smiles at you, big and bright. “Remind me to give him a big sloppy kiss sometime.”

You snort. “Will do.”

“Speaking of Hal…” Roxy wiggles her eyebrows.

“Nothing is really happening, so you can stop that,” you say quickly, shifting in your seat.

Roxy continues to waggle them.

“We haven’t strifed in a couple days,” you add.

She stops moving them and cocks her head.

“I know,” you huff. “It probably doesn’t mean anything, but still it’s weird. I feel like everything he does now is so…precise. Like he’s just testing the waters or checking out the playing field.”

“Ain’t that what you’re doing?” Roxy asks.

“I mean, yes, sort of. But there’s nothing to observe. The dude is like an enigma, except I’d have a better time with an enigma than this weird fuckery. Just now, for example, he wanted to talk to me but backed off when I said I was calling you. What is that? He’d normally be shoving my ass out of the chair and calling you himself.”

“Sounds like he’s respecting your business and shit.”

You make a rude noise in the back of your throat. “That’s the problem though. He never used to do that. It’s like one day the sun rose and decided, well shit, I don’t want to move east to west. Let’s just fuck shit up and zig zag my flaming ball of gaseous corporal form to the north. Get fucked western hemisphere, but in a polite way. Courtesy fucking, he’s courtesy fucking me, Roxy.”

She giggles into her palm, eyes bright.

“What the fuck do I even do in this scenario? My damn crops are withering and the people are freezing but shit, it’s so fucking courteous that I might be dreaming the entire damn thing. Frost-bite induced hallucinations.”

“Maybe you should try and set an example? Move east to west or whatevs you’re babbling about. Like if he doesn’t want to step on toes you should be like ‘no bb totes step all over me I’m so into that wink wink’ you know?” Roxy punctuates her sentence with multiple winks and a cheeky grin.

“Damn, who told you my biggest kink? I just love being a doormat.”

“For real though, just do whatever you wanna do. Like if you want to go back to being rude little shits then do it!”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Just sayin’. Janey thinks Hal’s got, like, manners or some shit since this has begun. So it also might not just be you.”

You sit up a bit. “Jane mentioned that?”

“Oh yeah, she and Hal are like chatting up a storm. She doesn’t know what’s up, I think, unless Hal is confiding in her and cheating on me as bffsies. Which is, like, totes not happening.”

“Wow, didn’t think they got along that well,” you trail off and frown. “I haven’t heard from Jane lately.”

Roxy shrugs. “She’s been busy with all that inheritance shit, you know?”

“Yeah…I’ll check up on that. I’ll call you tomorrow, Rox.”

She wiggles her fingers at you. “See ya!”

The call ends and you try calling Jane, only to hit voicemail. You send her a couple messages and then sit back and think. You know her birthday is in a couple days, so most likely she’s getting ready for baking boot camp.

You get up and head out of your room to find Hal, figuring he might be more up to date on Jane’s situation than you are currently.

That thought sits oddly with you, but you push it aside.

“Hal?” The apartment looks deserted, so you head up the stairs to the roof automatically.

Sure enough, he’s sitting in his usual spot and staring off towards the horizon. You know he can hear you, so you walk over and lower yourself next to him. The heels of your sneakers knock against the side of the complex as you lean back on your hands.

“So what was it you wanted to talk about?” you ask after a couple minutes of silence.

Hal tilts his head towards you ever so slightly. “I was wondering if you were still working on your project.”

“I am.” You say shortly. You chew on your lower lip and stare at the water below your feet. “I sent a file to Roxy with all my work on it.”

Hal actually turns to look at you now, but you keep your eyes fixated on the waves sloshing against the steel pillars of your home.

“She apparently has been working on a similar thing for a while. So, we’re collaborating.”

“Well shit, look at that. Something got through your thick skull,” Hal’s voice is light and teasing, and your lips quirk upwards.

You elbow him and he gets you back right in the ribs, and despite the discomfort it’s the first familiar thing he’s done today.

You guess Hal feels the same way because he flashes you his trademark condescending smirk, and you can’t deny how your heart beat spikes in response.

Fuck, you want to kiss him. You just don’t know if you can right now. It used to be the worst he’d do in response would be to punch you, but right now you’d love something like that just to know that everything is okay.

Hal’s watching you, his expression back to an unreadable mask.

Your hands are getting sweaty and you sort of hate how nervous you’re getting. He kissed you already, it’s not that big of a deal for fucks sake you’ve done worse. But for some reason the thought of a kiss is driving your mind haywire because while you can wrap your thoughts around something dirty and painful, a kiss is somehow beyond you.

“Jesus, you’re taking forever,” Hal snips. “Are you going to kiss me or keep staring?”

You flush, but if that’s not a green light then like fuck do you know what is.

You lean into him, closing the short distance between you both and pressing your lips against Hal’s. He holds still, but his lips move against yours and that’s all you can really hope for.

It’s short and warm and when you pull back Hal is still looking at you.

You give him a blank stare. “That was fucking weird.”

Hal lets out a short laugh, amusement crossing his face. “Try this.”

His hand presses against your chest for a moment, then he shoves you down on your back. You exhale in surprise when he suddenly hovers over you, your eyes wide as he pauses for a fraction of a second before kissing you.

_Oh fuck._

His mouth is rough against yours, demanding and controlling the kiss with no room for protest. His body is caging you in, pressing you into the hot gravel and keeping you passive underneath him.

You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, letting him force his tongue into your mouth without resistance.

When he pulls away to let you breathe you’re left feeling dizzy and hot.

“Oh,” you say eloquently, and then your face gets impossibly hotter. Fuck you’re probably completely red. God dammit.

Hal is studying you intently, red eyes searching your face with a slight furrow between his eyebrows.

You manage to catch your breath enough to ask the first thing that pops into your mind.

“Strife?”

It must’ve been the right thing to say, because Hal gives you a predatory grin that sends a surge of arousal through you.

He lets you get up and get your katana out, his own sword appearing in his hand seconds before he attacks.

It’s not so much a fight as a dance, the two of your moving fluidly together as you exchange hits and parries.

You step in close, pushing the blade of your sword at his chest.

_Was that too much?_

Hal catches it effortlessly and twists it away, dragging his sword along yours with a screech of metal.

_I can handle myself._

You step back, working through some footwork that forces Hal to turn to follow you.

_Will you tell me if I go too far?_

Hal interrupts your form with a poke towards your ribs, earning a glare from you as he smirks in return.

_Yes._

You exhale and stop circling to begin your offense, pressing forward with a series of swipes that have become muscle memory.

Hal counters easily but makes no attempt at his own attack, letting you work through your stances until you’re satisfied with the aching burn in your arms.

He lowers his sword when you give the signal to stop, letting the setting sun catch it and glint towards you.

You mirror Hal, breathing heavily and painfully aware of your desire to be close to him. You don’t make a move though, watching Hal as dull orange and yellow shine through his pale white hair, giving it a halo effect.

It’s your move, you can tell by the expectant cock of Hal’s head and the way he’s looking at you.

You take a step forward, testing the waters. He doesn’t raise his sword, so you keep moving until you’re right in front of him.

“You going to do something this time? Or will it always be up to me.” Hal’s voice is quiet and mocking, wonderfully familiar and aggravating in the best ways.

You captchalogue your sword and then curl your hands into the hem of Hal’s shirt, the fabric worn and soft.

He meets you halfway, and you kiss him with searing intensity. Hal’s fingers twine themselves in your hair and yank, earning a small whine as you bite his lower lip in retaliation.

This works, you realize with a jolt as Hal does his best to dominate your mouth with his tongue. He’s being rough, hands moving to your waist to grip and bruise, but he’s keeping you close. You press your tongue against his, then smack his upper arm when he nips it.

“Ow,” you chastise, to which Hal rolls his eyes.

“You’ve dealt with worse and enjoyed it.”

He’s definitely got your number.

You find that you don’t give a shit as you kiss him again and again until the sunlight fades from the sky and the cold drives you both indoors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the story of two idiots trying to understand common decency.  
> I was going to leave wrap it up here and leave, but honestly ya'll have left so many wonderful comments that I'm writing an epilogue/final chapter as I speak.  
> It'll be posted before the week is up!  
> But for now; THANK YOU for reading!!! <3


	13. Epilogue

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

You’re trying not to sound like a child, but you don’t think you’re doing a great job.

Jane gives you a sympathetic look through the webcam. “I’m sorry, Dirk! I just didn’t want to tell you until I was all set up. I knew you’d worry and Roxy made it sound like you had enough on your plate as it is.”

You grumble something that definitely comes out as childish. “Well are you ok now? Nobody has come after you?”

“Hoo hoo, no! Hal did a marvelous job. My joke shop is running well and I made a profit this month! _Jokes and Jibes_ is a success.”

“I still think you should’ve called it Crocker’s Bakery for shits and giggles. Really stick it to your great grandma.”

Jane waggles her finger at you. “That would be too obvious! Besides, I’m going by Egbert now.”

“Right, Jane Egbert.” You look up and notice that the sun is finally slipping below the horizon, the last dregs of color draining away with it.

“Jane I better go, Hal will be down soon and we have a video call date with Roxy.”

“Hoo hoo well have a nice date! Tell him I say hello!” Jane waves and then ends the call right as Hal walks in.

“Was that Jane?”

You move automatically as Hal perches on half your chair. “Yep. She says hi.”

“Have you told her about the project yet?” Hal runs his fingers through the small hairs at the base of your head, tugging playfully until you slap his hand away.

“No, she won’t believe it until we appear on her bed. Even then she’ll insist on pinching us black and blue before she accepts it.”

Hal rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

You send out a call to Roxy, who accepts it almost instantly.

“Hi boys!” Roxy’s face fills up the screen, along with the blurred pixilation of what you assume is her waving her hand fanatically.

“Hey Rox,” you say, and then roll your eyes when Hal pushes you aside and drags the computer towards himself.

“Roxy, my dearest, it has been too long,” he drawls, ignoring your pointed shoving.

“Hal, my love! It’s been a whole two hours since we last spoke!” Roxy presses her hands to her chest and pulls a hurt look. “Have you been calling other hot babes to talk about physics with? I’m wounded.”

“Never,” Hal says, though you cut him off with a jab to his thigh before he can continue.

You realign the computer and cast the two of them an exasperated look. “How about we take care of business first before the two of you devolve into reciting Shakespeare.”

“Oh please, like you don’t have your grubby mitts all over Hamlet’s monologue. You mumble in your sleep bro, you’re ready for the spotlight.”

Roxy laughs. “Dibs on Lady Macbeth, talk about a babe! Speaking of babes, guess what this babe did?”

“Do tell,” Hal says.

“I got the Prospit pad to connect with a Derse pad! Sent a pumpkin to Derse with no weird mutations or parts missing.”

“Shit, the theory worked?” You sit upright and reach for your notebook.

Hal leans over your shoulder as you flip it open and start scribbling.

“Yeah! So now we need to finish our pads here at home and we should be good! I mean it’ll probs take a couple months on my end since I don’t have a hot robo-babe to help. But it’ll get done!”

Hal nudges you. “Roxy thinks I’m hot. Do you think I’m hot, Dirk?”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “Stunning.”

“Careful, bro, or I’ll warp to Roxy first. She thinks I’m hot.”

“Like hell.”

Roxy flaps her hand at the screen. “How’s it going on your end? Got an ETA for me?”

Hal glances at you and shrugs. “A month, perhaps. The salt from the ocean is eroding some of the pieces we have, so once we get it up and working we can’t guarantee coming back.”

“Good thing my house has, like, a dozen bedrooms.” Roxy beams at the two of you. “Of course you can just share a room or whatevs, but point is let’s plan for a one-way ticket to Mama Rolals.”

You grin. “Sounds good to me.”

Hal nods next to you, and Roxy’s smile gets bigger.

“Hells yes, okay, I’m too pumped to sit still so I’m going to go work on the pad some more. Bye bbs, call me tomorrow!”

Hal waves and you say bye before ending the call.

“Damn, shit’s going a lot faster than we thought,” Hal comments, leaning back in your chair.

“Yeah.” You run your fingers through your hair and let out a short laugh. “We could be seeing her in two months if all goes right.”

“Well shit.” Hal says, which sums up how you feel about it. “We’ll have to pack up everything here. Can’t come back once we go.”

You nod absently.

Hal looks over at you. “Does that bother you?”

You mull it over for a minute. “I’m not sure. But I’ll tell you one thing; I’ll be happy if I never have to see the ocean again.”

“I can get behind that,” Hal says, and then shoves you off the chair.

Your ass hits the ground and you immediately kick the chair, sending him toppling over on the other side.

“Fuck you,” Hal says tiredly from the floor.

You flip him off and he laughs, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair to straighten it.

You push yourself up into a sitting position too and look around your room. You’ve been slowly making a mental list of what you want to bring and what will be left behind. While Roxy said she had a bedroom for you both, you’re thinking you want to bring your bed with you.

A hand brushes your jaw and you come out of your mind to see Hal is kneeling in front of you.

“I was thinking about what to leave,” you say to his unasked question.

He hums in response, fingers moving down to your throat and pressing gently into your pulse. “We can take the codes of everything we decide to leave in case we want it later.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly, distracted as Hal’s fingers dance down to your collarbone. “I sort of don’t want to though. Feels like I’m dragging all my baggage with me when I have this golden opportunity to toss it all out.”

Hal shrugs and tugs on the collar of your shirt, fingers sliding into the divot at the base of your throat. “Maybe. Or maybe you like the comfort of the familiar and find uncertainty to be anxiety-inducing.”

“Maybe,” you say, though you know Hal hit the nail on the head. You feel a little surge of spite and almost declare that you don’t want to take the codes, but your thought stutters out when Hal’s lips press against yours.

No matter how many times Hal kisses you it always leaves your mind deliriously blank.

He draws back and looks at you. “There’s nothing wrong with finding comfort in material objects.”

You blink at him. “That was nice. You said something nice.”

Hal rolls his eyes and pinches your nipple, making you yelp and jerk back. “It was a statement.”

“A nice statement,” you defend, rubbing your chest.

“And there is a 2.788% chance of it happening again now,” Hal grumbles, catching the edge of your shirt and tugging you back towards him.

“So, still a chance?”

“Appears so.”

You press your lips against Hal’s, smothering your smile when he kisses you back automatically. His hands are on you again, moving idly over your chest, pausing only to gently thumb the nipple he abused earlier.

You shiver and trace your tongue along the seam of Hal’s lips, pressing it in when he parts them. His mouth has no taste, but the oddly smooth texture of his tongue sends a thrill down your spine. You make a soft noise, which encourages Hal’s hands to slip under your shirt and trace your hip bones.

He pulls away briefly and pulls your shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the clutter of your room.

Hal’s hands are cold when as they work their way over your chest, smoothing down to your stomach and tracing the small scars littered over your skin.

You lean back on your elbows and let him explore, though you know he’s got every inch of you mapped out. You love the concentrated look Hal gets when he does this, how closely he watches you as his fingers follow all your curves.

You’re not sure what he’s watching for, some sort of reaction probably, and you’re more than willing to give one.

You hiss when he presses into the soft divots between your ribs, arch towards him when he flicks at your nipples. Your teeth are worrying at your lower lip and you don’t realize you’ve bitten it until Hal captures your mouth in a kiss. You taste the tinge of copper on his tongue and moan, chasing after it with your own tongue.

Hal pushes you back onto the rough carpet of your floor, repositioning himself so he’s straddling your hips. His hands drag down your body again, and you push up into his hands impatiently.

He gives you an arched eyebrow for your troubles.

_Don’t rush me._

You let your head fall back and groan low in your throat, already uncomfortably hard.

_Please._

That seems to work, and you gasp when his teeth find your neck and suck a dark bruise into it. You moan and hold him there, tilting your head like an offering. You’re slowly learning how to do this dance without stepping on each other’s toes, though you’re both still skittering around actual conversations about it.

You use your body instead of your words, and Hal drinks up your moans and chases after more, littering your neck with marks and kisses until you’re shaking.

“Your heart rate is high, Dirk,” Hal practically purrs, and you shift under him. “Are you turned on by such a possessive display?”

“Your dirty talk is shit,” you grumble, and then yelp when he pinches your side.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hal’s hand slips up and gently rests over your throat, fingers tapping on your developing hickeys.

The weight of the suggestion makes your breath catch, and you swallow roughly. You force yourself to go limp, unable to ask for what you want, so you just raise your chin and let the weight of Hal’s hand settle over your trachea.

_Yes. God, yes._

He responds by slowly tightening his grip, and you let out a weak noise of encouragement as he watches you with a burning intensity.

“I’ve imagined doing this countless times,” Hal says softly as you choke and struggle. “Not exactly in these circumstances, though.” He rolls his hips into your straining erection for emphasis.

Your mind is fuzzing out, but you have enough mental coherency left to rest your hand on Hal’s wrist, not pushing, just gently holding it as he squeezes your throat.

When his fingers release your neck you suck in a deep gulp of air, tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you cough. Your vision is swimming a bit, but your body feels electric.

“I guess the desire for your destruction is something we both share, in a sense,” Hal contemplates, like he wasn’t just grinding on you as he played on your biggest kink.

“Then wreck me,” you say, voice harsh from your abused throat.

Hal’s eyes flicker and he’s on you, body pressing down against you and kissing you with more teeth than tongue.

You moan, the two of you volleying dangerously between kissing and violence as he keeps rolling his hips into you with a slow, firm insistency.

You’re panting when he finally relents, and you tug at his shirt until he gets annoyed and finally takes it off. You smooth your hands up his chest, feeling the heat from his internal processors. You can feel the invisible seams of silicone and you trace them with the pads of your fingers.

Hal doesn’t let you rest for long, shifting off you long enough to undo your jeans and letting you push them off. Your boxers don’t hide much, but you don’t think anything your body does escapes Hal’s notice.

He makes no move to undress himself further, and you don’t push the matter. His fingers slide along the waist band of your underwear, a question, and you lift your hips up as an answer.

Your boxers are added to the mess in your room.

Hal gets up and tugs you to your feet, smirking when you stumble. “I assume rug burn isn’t one of your kinks, so shall we move this to your bed?”

“How considerate,” you say, though your back is tingling in relief. You didn’t put it above Hal to fuck you into that rug solely for the purpose of seeing how badly your back would be destroyed afterwards.

His consideration ends there though, and you’re pushed and shoved back until you end up in your bed.

Hal’s eyes run over your body, taking in your flushed cock and necklace of bruises, before finally joining you.

Your craving for closeness hits you like a freight train, and you crawl into his lap without any prompting. Your legs lock around his waist and you stare at him, daring him to say anything about it.

Hal doesn’t, just looks at you, waiting for you to make the next move.

You kiss his neck, knowing you can’t leave the same claiming marks but wishing all the same. You lick and kiss along where you know the silicone seams are, aware of Hal’s hands sneaking lower and lower down your back.

You moan when his hands end up on your ass, squeezing your cheeks and toying with them. He runs a finger down the cleft of your ass, tauntingly close to your entrance, before pulling away and doing it again.

You ache for some sort of contact, so when Hal does it again you rock yourself back into it. His fingers brushes against your taint and you keen into his neck.

“Do that again and I’ll spank you,” Hal says, one hand settling on your hips to hold you still.

You suck in a sharp breath and go wide-eyed and tense for a second.

“Ah yes, your desire for punishment has not gone unnoticed. There’s a 79.433% chance that you want to be humiliated. Am I right, Dirk?”

You make an undignified noise and press into Hal, squeezing your thighs around his waist.

_Oh god fuck yes please, please Hal._

“You beg so nicely,” Hal murmurs, and you realize with a jolt you said it aloud.

His hands find your thighs, prying them off his waist and rearranging you so you’re face down across his lap. It’s a position that makes you want to curl up and defend your soft places, but all of that flies out the window when his hand connects with your ass.

“ _AH!_ Shit…yes…” you’re gripping the sheets in front of you and resting your head on Hal’s thigh, pushing your ass up in what you hope is the universal sign for ‘more’.

You guessed right, because Hal hits you again and again, each strike precise in its force and placement. You know your ass is red and will be tender as fuck tomorrow, but right now you’re too far gone to care.

You make a high pitched cry when he hits one spot one too many times, and you’re trembling as Hal gently runs his hand over it.

“You’re so loud, Dirk. You’ll have to learn to be quiet when we go to Roxy’s. Think you can do that?”

You’re shaking, trying to wrap your mind around what Hal just asked.

“There’s an extremely high chance that won’t be able to, Dirk. Want to hear the probability I just pulled out of my ass? It’s a ridiculous number.” Hal punctuates his sentences with little swats, making you keen as your cock leaks onto the rough denim of his jeans. “We should invest in a gag. What sort of gag do you want, Dirk? Ball gag? Something to keep your mouth open?”

Hal pauses, hand rubbing your ass as you practically convulse in his lap. “Or maybe a bit-gag is more your speed.”

You groan loud and brokenly at the thought.

Hal’s hands leave you and you feel him shift, leaning for something. When he returns you hear the pop of a cap and you nearly sob in relief. Two cold, slick fingers rub your entrance, pressing and massaging as Hal tests your resistance.

You are so far gone that the only sign you can give is to just raise your ass for him, complacent and willing to accept anything he gives you.

“Dirk, use your words,” Hal says, his other hand coming to tap your cheek.

_Tell me if it’s too much._

“ _Please_ ,” you gasp, and then moan loudly as he finally presses a finger into you. It’s too intense, and you’re already teetering on the edge. You try and control your breathing, trying to make it last as Hal starts to finger fuck you.

He’s relentless, pressing the tip of his finger into your prostate and drawing sharp, choked cries from you with ever trust. He adds another finger and you’re so close, so fucking close, it’s not enough to get you over the edge but the torture is so good you don’t care.

“Dirk,” Hal says coyly, a playful tone to his voice that, if you were in your right might, would immediately draw suspicion. “I have a surprise for you.”

You can’t understand a thing, but suddenly Hal presses his fingers into your prostate and they _start to vibrate oh god oh god—!_

You scream, your head snapping back as you claw at the sheets, finishing hard. White hot intense pleasure knocks your senses into next week as you moan fragments of Hal’s name.

He pulls his fingers out of you and gently maneuvers your body off his lap, letting you lay sprawled out and shaking on the sheets.

You hear him making comments about the mess you made, but you’re comfortable in the afterglow and easily block him out as he moves around to clean up.

You feel like he just liquefied your spine and your mind is suspiciously quiet for once. Something warm is curling up inside your chest, and you drag yourself out of your mental stupor to look for Hal.

He’s hunting down his shirt, pulling it back on and then turning to look at you with something like fond amusement, though a lot more snarky. He changed into a pair of your sweatpants, since you ruined his jeans. “Yes, o mighty creator?”

You mumble something and then pat the space next to you.

_Don’t go yet._

Hal looks at you and you pray to whatever deities you can think of that he understands your shitty attempt at basic communication.

You’re feeling absurdly self-conscious and that warm curling feeling is starting to squirm into something resembling anxiety.

“Will you just come over here,” you manage to get out.

Hal moves back over to you, to your great relief. “It seems you want to use your excess oxytocin levels to bond with me. Is that what you’re trying to do, Dirk?” His tone is teasing, but you don’t detect mockery for once.

“Yeah yeah sure now shut up and cuddle with me,” you grumble, catching his wrist and tugging him down into bed with you.

Hal lets you curl yourself around him, and you’re back to the warm fuzzy feelings when he wraps an arm around you in response.

After a few minutes you’re falling into something that feels remarkably like a secure feeling, which is a baffling but rather enjoyable concept.

Naturally, Hal ruins it.

“Seriously though, bro, you’re going to need some volume control when we move. I’m pretty sure the deceased population of earth heard you screaming. I’m expecting a text from Roxy any second to ask if you were murdered.”

You huff and press your face more insistently into Hal’s chest. “You’re shit at pillow talk too.”

Hal laughs and you hide your smile in his chest.

Thankfully you’re both shit at pillow talk, and all forms of communication, so it’s easy to fall into your usual snippy bantering. It almost feels natural, like how you’d normally talk. But Hal’s hand is slowly rubbing your back and you’ve got your arms wrapped around him as you trade quips. It’s natural and different but definitely something that you could get used to. You think you might already be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for your super awesome comments! They mean the world to me ^u^  
> I hope you enjoyed these dysfunctional jerks attempting the very basic concept of being decent to one another. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is lining up to be a big one whoobooyyyy  
> Comments are always appreciated ^u^


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